Time-Out
by silentgundam
Summary: Dean wakes up in an unfamiliar world as a college student, where his mother never died and his family was able to grow and lead relatively normal lives in Lawrence. There are still monsters to hunt, but it's the college classes and an early-twenties Castiel that has fallen into the same universe as Dean's roommate that has the hunter struggling. *rated due to future chapters*
1. Chapter 1

There were no dreams, only the expanse of darkness in the silent subconscious. There was neither here nor there, no past or present, the idea of a future unimaginable. The blackness simply was, and it was peacefully swallowing the man whole, though he cared not. There was a certain kind of beauty in being suspended in an existence of nonexistence that the man liked, that anyone would have liked. It was contentedness at its most primal.

The nothingness only lasted a moment, though, before the man could distinctly feel his body tilt ever so slightly. His head, which was only an idea just seconds before, was dipping lower than his feet. Disorientation remained at the edge of his awareness, but the soft beating of his heart seemed to echo too loudly in his ears as his head continued to fall, pulling his chest and arms along with it. Just as it felt that his body had reached a kind of vertical orientation, the peace of nothingness shattered.

The man's body seemed to spring into being all at once. His head suddenly had the solidarity of bone and tissue, his arms fixing to burst with muscle beneath careworn skin. Legs tingled painfully with an eruption of hot blood flow that raced up and through his abdomen and into the center of his chest, slamming into the growing trumpet of his thundering heart.

It was all too much to bear, and the man felt panic for what had to be the first time in all creation. It was ice cold and loud, freezing his new muscles while pumping the heart so that all he could hear was the blood rushing angrily in his ears, drowning out even his own unfamiliar cry when it all finally became too much.

His eyes snapped open for the first time.

* * *

><p>Dean Winchester gasped as he shot up from sleep, eyes wide and body drenched in sweat. He involuntarily clutched at his chest, trying to calm the over-enthused beating of his heart. What in the world had he been dreaming about?<p>

But he could only imagine exactly what his nightmares held for him when he couldn't remember. Dean knew better than anyone all the shit he had been through. He didn't like it, but a guy couldn't just live his life and do the things he did and not have nightmares from time to time. No matter how tough he thought he was. No matter how.. gone he truly was.

Dean's eyes closed on their own accord as he struggled to calm himself down. Breathe in deep, hold for a few seconds, breathe out slow, repeat. He had taught Sam that when the kid was nervous or scared, and Dean still practiced it whenever he had to. He could feel the rough beat of his heart slowing down, and his breathing felt easier. But he waited until the sweat on his body felt cold against him to finally open his eyes and breathe normal.

Bad idea.

This was definitely not where he fell asleep, if he had fallen asleep at all.

Dean was frozen as he took everything in with calculating detail. He was lying in a plush king-sized bed and covered in a thin blanket made of soft, slightly frayed material. Though dark, the room seemed to be about half the size of a typical motel room. The bed backed into a wall with a large window, blinds shut, with an empty night table on either side. Between two closed doors was a thin desk and chair, the wooden surface covered by a few dark masses that Dean couldn't distinguish. The walls, too, held frames of images he couldn't make out through the darkness. As he continued to gaze, that heavy and warm smell of a well-used home crept into his consciousness. Like this was distinctly a place of privacy and solitude for a single person.

This was somebody's bedroom.

What in the world had he done the night before? Was he in some girl's house, and she had gone to the bathroom? No light shone from the window, so it had to be very early morning if that were the case. Dean looked around again in search of a clock and was irritated to come up empty. Who didn't have a clock in their bedroom?

He felt vulnerable and confused and, unsurprisingly, angry at the fact that he felt either. Where were his weapons, his things? If he had gone home with a chick, his clothes would be somewhere, along with his gun and knife. But unless they were on the desk among the other dark blobs, there was nothing. And he definitely wasn't wearing his usual getups, being clad only in his briefs and a drenched tee shirt.

Dean carefully climbed out of the bed, thankful that it didn't creak as so many of the motel beds he had grown up in did. His eyes were fairly adjusted to the darkness, and he found nothing on the floor to trip him as he made his way over to the desk. There, he found three duffels, about the size of his usual one, though none belonged to him.

"Damn," he muttered, slightly surprised at his soft tone. Maybe he drank so much that his voice was more whispery? Was that a thing? And where the hell did he put his clothes?

A soft shuffling noise from outside the door to his left distracted him from his irritated musings. It sounded as though whatever or whoever was making the noise was trying to be quiet. Dean felt himself tense, going on high alert. Maybe he didn't just drink too much and wind up in some chick's house. Maybe this was some kind of messed up monster trap. Or worse.

Taking care to be as quiet as possible, Dean crept to the door and twisted the handle slowly. Luck was on his side twice - the door was silent as Dean gently swung it open just wide enough for him to fit through before easing it back into place. He was in a narrow hallway, a wall to his right, a door across from the one he had just exited, and a light on in a room further to his left. Dean took a slow breath and crept along the wall, edging towards the light.

He was nearly there when the light switched off very abruptly, stopping Dean in his tracks. Whatever was in there was either about to come out, or it would wait for him to enter. Either way, he clenched his fists and lifted his back from the wall. The beginning of a shape emerged from the room, and Dean raised his fist.

"Oh shit, Dean, you scared the shit out of me!" Came an angry whisper and amused eyes that froze Dean solid.

"Mom?"


	2. Chapter 2

Mary Winchester, just as Dean had known her in his djinn fantasy world, late-middle aged and radiant, stood in a bright blue robe that was sure to match her eyes in the strange hallway as though she was meant to be there. Her blonde hair was slightly crazed from sleep, but she was still the most beautiful woman Dean had ever known. All he could do was just stare at her, fist half-raised in the darkness of a home to which he did not belong with his long-dead mother.

"Yes, Dean, it's just me," she whispered, sounding amused. "Who else would be up this early?"

"But.. what.. ?" Where the hell was he supposed to begin? And what the hell was going on?

Mary's eyebrows drew close as her lips fell into a small frown of concern. "Everything okay, honey?"

No, no it was not.

"Uh, yeah," Dean fumbled, forcing himself to drop his arm and stare dumbly at her. "Yeah, everything's great, yeah."

"Uh huh," she said disbelievingly. "Look, I'm going to start on some bacon, so why don't you wash up and meet me in the kitchen to talk about it?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Of course."

Dean watched her walk away, skin crawling with the ever growing feeling that something was so very, very wrong. He leaned against the doorframe from which Mary had just come, rubbing his eyes as he tried to make any kind of sense from what he was seeing. Was this another djinn fantasy? Or maybe angels had something to so with all this? But that didn't make a lot of sense. The angels had so many other ways of forcing him to do something than using his mother as bait, and they knew it. No, this had to be a djinn or some other kind of mind-bending, universe-creating monster with inconceivable motive. But how had they caught and subdued him?

Dean's head was beginning to ache, and a splash of cold water to the face was sounding pretty good.

As it turned out, the doorframe he had been holding up was the bathroom. Dean flicked on the lights as he entered and came face to face with something that swayed between the realms of horror and absolute absurdity.

The mirror hung above the single sink reflected a younger, thinner, baby-faced Dean Winchester, a Dean Winchester that was at least ten years dead and gone in the past. Lean rather than bulk muscle was tensed under the clean and unscarred skin of a long-lost adolescence, his dark grey tee shirt clinging to a thinner waist than to what he was accustomed. His hair was lighter and an inch or two longer, sticking up wildly from sleep. Even his eyes looked younger - wider and maybe brighter, as though the weight of all his darkest sins was no longer there. It was surreal, as though looking at a copy of a familiar photograph with small, deliberate mistakes.

Dean could only stare for several seconds, mouth agape at the complete confusion that was before him, that was him. Now things were definitely weird. When had his physical appearance ever changed when thrown into a fantasy world?

He hastily splashed several handfuls of ice cold water over his face, rubbed his eyes until he was seeing swirls of color behind the lids, and took more than one steadying breath.

Mary was waiting for him, expecting him to come spill his heart out as though this was normal. But nothing was normal. This.. this whole thing was a new ballpark for Dean, and though he had blundered his way through a fake reality or time jump or two, he wasn't sure if he was as ready as the times before. He wasn't as good as he was even then. He was something evil, something dark.

Dean opened his eyes and stared back at his reflection. Was he still.. ?

He blinked hard, trying to feel the familiar roll of an extra lining across the glossy surface underneath his lids, but none came. Only green eyes shone back at him in the mirror.

A strange surge of relief and irritation flooded Dean. It was wrong, but there was a certain.. freedom in what he once was, or still was. But surely if he still was.. then he'd still feel as cold and calculating as he had, right? Not as emotional as the damn teenager he basically always had been? Dean shook his head roughly, bracing himself on the sink bowl with both arms.

Screw it.

The kitchen luckily wasn't hard to find. The entire house being dark, finding the only light was easy. The soft sizzling of bacon and sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee helped, too.

Mary was standing over the gas stove with a coffee mug when Dean walked into the brightly lit room. Deep red walls highlighted the otherwise off-white theme of the cluttered kitchen, making it automatically seem cozy and loved. Dishes sat in the sink and books, papers, a few odds and ends, and other junk littered the countertops and round table that sat off to the side.

"So," Mary said, turning around as Dean failed to noiselessly fall into a chair. She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Another nightmare?"

"Uh." It seemed the only thing he was really capable of saying. Was his.. other self? Alternate self? Fake self? Was he supposed to be someone who had nightmares a lot?

Mary just gave him a small smile. "It's okay, you know. They say that you're freshman year of college is the hardest, but it's really your last one that sucks."

What? Was Dean in college? That had to make him, what? Early twenties?

"And moving into these new apartments with a guy you've never met will be different." Mary went on. "Not really like the dorms, where you can kind of escape each other if the guy's a creep. But you're a friendly guy and will be up to your eyes in school work this year, so I really don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Right," Dean said after a moment, realizing that his silence could be suspicious. "I, uh, well, it wasn't that, really. It's okay now, though."

The change in Mary's eyes was unmistakable - the shift of a mother's amused concern to genuine worry. Something he was trying desperately to avoid.

"Oh, honey, are you still thinking about that shapeshifter?"

He blinked. What in the world? Did she still hunt? Did Dean hunt in this reality? He never thought that he would have learned anything about hunting if his mother hadn't died. But here, apparently, something was different.

"Uh, yeah, that's why I, uh," he raised his fist as he had in the hallway as a vague gesture to finish his thought, feeling a bit sheepish.

His mother's blue eyes softened before turning around and opening a drawer just off the stove. After a moment, she turned around.

"Here."

And to Dean absolute amazement, Mary sprinkled a pinch of salt into her mouth, wincing as she swallowed, quickly then switching to drawing a silver blade over her finger and letting the blood pool into her palm.

"Mom!" He sputtered, instinctively leaping up and moving towards her.

"That's all we have in the kitchen, but you're welcome to find your own tests if you want."

"No! No, that's.. that's ridiculous, Mom."

But Mary just grinned. "Feel better, though?"

"Well, yeah," he admitted, though guilt danced around in his gut. He was still taken aback by the fact that his mom was alive and cooking breakfast in a house they obviously lived in as a family, much less that they were still hunters. He didn't much like the sight of her bleeding because of him, however small the cut. His hands reached out to hers, but she laughed softly and turned around.

"Oh please, Dean, I've bled worse than this." When her face came back to Dean's, Mary was securing a small bandage to the cut on her finger. "The sun's about to come up. Dad had to stop at a motel last night, so could you go wake up your brothers? They should be up and at 'em any minute, but you know those two. And personally, I'm a little sick of the school calling to bitch about them being late."

"Oh, yeah, sure."

Brothers? Was it not just him and Sam? Yeah, in his real world, there was Adam, but he was the bastard kid from John's affair with some woman after Mary died. And where was John that he had to stay in a motel? Probably on a hunting trip, if Mary's ease with slicing her own skin and talk about shapeshifters was any clue.

But, of course, he couldn't ask, and Dean turned to head back towards the hallway.

Dean squinted a bit, eyes adjusting to the returned darkness. The bathroom light was on again.

"Mornin'."

A shadow was coming up from the end of the hallway, and it took everything in Dean not to gasp aloud when the light fell onto a young man's face.

It was Adam.

But it wasn't the Adam he knew. Not even just metaphorically. The boy standing in the doorway to the bathroom bore a striking resemblance to the kid Sam and Dean had ended up abandoning in Hell, but with very distinct differences. His nose was sharper, like Sam's, and though Dean could tell he was young, maybe fifteen or sixteen, the kid was tall. He would end up being a jolly green giant like Sam, no doubt about it. But his eyes were more shaped like Dean's, and he was sporting more blonde than Dean remembered.

It was bizarre.

"Uh, hey," Dean said several seconds too late.

But apparently it wasn't an odd occurrence. The boy just rolled his eyes and shut the bathroom door, the beginnings of a shower echoing in the small tile room.

There were only four doors in the hallway, two of which Dean already knew the purposes, and with one being propped open to expose a beautiful bedroom that was not only immaculately clean but sporting flowery drapes that only a mom could love. That left the one door across the hall from the room Dean woke up in to be Sam's. Well, Sam and the other boy's. His other brother. It felt even weirder to say it here than it had back in the real world.

Dean strode over and opened the door.

Books. Books absolutely everywhere.

Yep, this was Sam's room alright.

There was a bunk bed, and though books were everywhere, there was also a good amount of sword replicas and museum-worthy firearms that had Dean intrigued. Sam and the other brother must share a room. And, if Dean was in his early twenties, then Sam had to be around the same age as the other kid, so it would make sense for them to be together. Still, seeing the obviously shared space sent a weird pang of protective jealousy through Dean.

"Sam?"

Dean walked over to the bunk and stooped low to lean over the bulge in the dark covers.

"Sam?"

There was a small mumble from beneath the fabric. Very suddenly, Dean wondered if maybe this Sam would be his Sam. That maybe they had been transported to the same universe for whatever reason. The thought excited him, and he reached out to rip the covers right off of the sleeping teenage giant.

"Dean, what the hell?!"

A young, probably 17-year-old Sam sat up angrily in the ridiculous bunk bed, short hair wild and eyes bleary from sleep. He glared at Dean with such a familiar intensity that the older brother forgot himself for a moment, simply taking the time to stare wistfully at the face of his pesky little brother with the huge hopes and dreams to make the world a better place.

"I'll get up, jeez," Sam muttered, making to climb out of the bed.

"Wait, Sam," Dean held up a hand and Sam immediately obeyed. It seemed as though their relationship was at least kind of the same.

"What?"

"Do you, uh, notice anything weird?"

Sam scrunched his face up at Dean, confusion obvious. "I notice you up before freaking dawn, waking me up instead of Mom."

Not his Sam. Dean tried not to let the disappointment show on his youthful face as the teenager before him continued to glare sleepily. Sam snorted.

"Alright, alright, I'm up." He said as he stood, maneuvering around Dean's solid figure. "Adam already in the shower?"

"Uh, yeah." At least the other Adam's name was still Adam. That made things easier.

When Sam began to pull off his shirt and rummage through a nearby dresser, Dean left. That wasn't his Sam. He was truly alone here. The thought made his stomach drop.

He walked back to the kitchen and plopped down at the table, dropping his head into his hands. Wherever he was, he had to figure it out alone. Not that it wasn't possible or hadn't been done before, but the concern of where his little brother was and how whatever had done this to him had changed so much about himself was surely enough to call for a moment of despair.

"Dean, honey?"

He looked up and found Mary standing over him, a plate in her hand. Grief tugged at Dean's heart. He had lost his mom so many times over his lifetime. It was just plain cruel to dangle her in front of him again. Whatever the hell had done this to him would pay for damn sure.

"Dean?"

"Yeah," he answered gruffly, looking down again. "I'm here."

"I know you are," she replied sarcastically. The plate was set down in front of him, steam from freshly made bacon and eggs reaching up to soak into his skin. "But what's wrong? That nightmare really seemed to have knocked you off kilter."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Unless you are more worried about today than you're telling me."

Dean looked up.

There was so much in Mary's face that was impossibly and heart-wrenchingly familiar, things he could remember in clear detail from the short time he had had with her as a toddler. But this wasn't his mom, not really. This was a cruelly painted picture of something Dean so desperately wanted back. It didn't stop him from hating that look on her face, though.

"I.. I guess so."

She gave him a small smile. "Please don't worry. I know you'll be just fine. Now eat. We're leaving just as soon as Sam and Adam are gone, so you'll need a shower, too."

Without bothering to answer or even wonder what his mother was talking about, Dean began to eat.


	3. Chapter 3

"Mom, why do we hunt?"

"What?"

Dean cringed a bit. He and Mary were two and a half hours into their road trip to Wichita. After Dean had scarfed down his bacon and eggs, escaped to the shower so he only had to yell out a hasty goodbye to Sam and Adam, and dressed in surprisingly Dean-approved clothes, he quickly realized that the plans his mom had mentioned included driving him back to college. The bags from his desk were thrown into the rather empty trunk of his baby (thank whatever was hiding in the clouds that his baby was still in this world), and Mary had tossed him the keys. Apparently, the car Dean's other self had been using had been wrecked during the family's hunt with a shapeshifter hoard, leaving Dean to inherit the Impala and Mary to buy a new car out in Wichita.

"I just.. well, I know we do it to save people," he amended quickly. "But uh.. what got you and Dad into it in the first place?"

"Oh," she said, looking surprised. "Well, you know Grandma and Grandpa Campbell hunt, and I was raised into it."

"Yeah, but you hardly look the part of a hunter by choice."

"Well, no. Your father didn't know anything about monsters or hunting, and I didn't want to raise my kids they way my parents had raised me."

"So why'd you do it?" Dean asked, only fueled by her guarded answers. He received an annoyed look.

"I didn't. If you remember right, you and your brothers weren't told anything about what your dad and I did until you were ten. And we didn't take you on hunts until you were sixteen and knew how to run a hunt and handle a gun. School and family comes first and it always has."

"Right, sorry, Mom. I guess, just.. what made you decided to show Dad?"

"Well," Mary paused, looking out the window for a moment. "Now, I haven't told Sam and Adam, and your father and I weren't planning on telling any of you for a long time, but.. "

Dean waited in the silence as though expected a bomb to go off. Even in this world, it seemed, the family had secrets.

"When you were four, and Sam was only six months old, I had just found out I was pregnant with Adam. We still lived in the house across town, the one you probably remember. It had two stories, remember?" She smiled then, like she was reliving a small blessing in the midst of an oncoming storm. "Anyway, Sam was crying one night, so I went to go check on him, but.. someone was already in there."

Dean stiffened. He knew the story well, but what had gone differently here?

"I had thought it was your dad, but it turned out to be a demon. But his eyes weren't like a normal demon - they were yellow."

Of course.

"Your father heard me scream, and he came up and we fought the demon off. I remembered the demon traps and we tried to exorcise it, but the demon was too strong. So we ended up having to kill it and it's vessel." She sighed. "Ever since then, your dad and I have hunted, but we kept you guys from it for as long as we could. I wanted you guys to have a normal childhood, not like mine."

Huh. So this was a universe where his mom never died, where they killed Azazel instead of Sam becoming the boy with demon blood. Did that mean the apocalypse ever happened? If he and Sam didn't grow up as the had in the real world?

"What about angels?"

Mary snorted. "Angels?"

Okay.. no angels. This world was becoming weirder and weirder.

After dropping Mary off at a car dealership just inside the Wichita city limit, Dean was given specific instructions to go to his new apartment, where Mary would meet him to say goodbye. Almost everything in him screamed to take off to the nearest library and start trying to figure out what the hell had happened to make him a goddamn college student with his whole family alive and well, but a very small, extremely persistent part of him didn't want to disappoint or worry his mother. Plus, he added to himself, he may as well figure out where he'd be bunking for the undetermined future.

The directions were simple enough. Down two or three main roads that seemed to circle around the looming buildings of the central university's campus, turn right onto a bumpy paved road just past what looked like the campus library, and bam. Dean found himself sitting in his baby, staring up at the pale green wood of an old town home community. It was literally backed up to the foot entrance of the campus, and the complex seemed a bit on the small side. But all the apartment housing in the immediate area was like that. Perhaps it was a Wichita thing. He double-checked the paper his mom had given him for the apartment number, and he stepped out of the car.

Apartment 4D. Simple enough. Dean had parked just outside the ruby red door, which opened easily with one of the keys on his key ring. Bags slung over his shoulders, he pushed through the threshold of his new home.

He was surprised to find the place already furnished. A lumpy looking couch with a patchwork-quilt type of upholstery sat in the center of the hardwood living area, facing a small dresser on which a box TV sat. A weird rope rug was lying on the floor beside the two, joining the living area with a round wooden table and three chairs that sat slightly closer to the kitchen.

The kitchen was immediately to Dean's right, a smallish space with what looked like top-of-the-line-for-a-90s-or-early-2000s-college-living-apartment. The fridge was big. He wondered if it already had food in it.

But a slightly more pressing matter than magus growling stomach was where his bedroom was and if that roommate he was supposed to have was already here. The parking lot outside had been plenty full, but with five some buildings and twenty or more apartments, that wasn't unexpected. Eh, the bedrooms had to be up the stairs that were on the other side of the goofy couch, and there were only two to choose from. Shrugging, Dean began to haul his duffels up the narrow stairs.

They opened up into a think hallway with three doors - one immediately in front of him with a toilet inside, another a few feet down the hall, and the last one furthest from him. Both of the other doors were closed, and Dean tried his luck with the first one.

Weird hope swelled in Dean's chest when he saw the bookshelves lining the walls of the small bedroom. Old and thick leather-bound books by the hundreds stacked haphazardly onto the tall dark shelves that closed in on a full-sized bed with pale blue sheets. It looked like a room Sam might've had.

But Dean knew that his Sam couldn't be here. Things were never that easy. Besides, someone was already snoozing in the sky-like covers, bundled incredibly tight in the dead-center of the bed. Dean saw dark hair sticking every which way just at the base of the pillow, as well as the steady rise and fall of someone's breathing.

So, not his room.

He closed the door quietly and went into the last door to find a queen-sized bed with dark blankets and sheets surrounded by posters of cars and chicks in bikinis and guns. Beside the bed, in place of a night stand, was a thin wooden desk that already had a sizable sack of brand new, thick textbooks. The sight sent a jolt of displaced panic at the thought of having to actually attend a college level course over something he surely didn't know anything about at all.

But the panic was stopped in its tracks when Dean heard a small moan. It had clearly come from the other kid's room, but the moan had sounded.. what? Sad? Distressed? Maybe even angry? It was an odd combination of the three, almost like an upset cat. But softer. And deeper.

Dean shook himself and tossed his duffels onto the bed before flopping down beside them. The strange kid next door's nightmares weren't his problem. His problem was figuring a way out of this fake paradise with absolutely no help at all.

He didn't like to admit it, but Dean knew that he relied heavily on others in tight spots. His brother had been an almost constant pillar in his life, as well as Bobby, hell, even Cas was someone Dean seemed to always need in times of crisis.

But thinking about his brother and the angel tugged angrily at his chest. There was so much wrong between all of them. Even before, when his mind and body were unfathomably uninhibited, Dean had realized that the relationships that he had built with the only two friends he had in the whole world were probably broken so far beyond repair that God Himself couldn't fix them. At the time, it was a weight off of his shoulders. But now, with his emotions and thoughts back where they had been and a moment alone for the first time that day, the memories swept over him like a dangerously dark cloud.

Shit, even if he could go back, what was he going back to that was all that great?

Another moan, louder and.. scared.

Dean sat up. Jeez, the kid was loud in his sleep. If this was going to be a thing, maybe he'd have to buy ear plugs.

But the thought vanished a second later when the other guy actually cried out. The pure anguish of the cry was startling. What the hell?

Listening intently now, Dean could hear subdued trashing, a soft thud as something fell from the bed or a shelf through the more steady moans and stifled sobs.

It wasn't his place to make his first encounter with his fake-self's new roommate as awkward as this was going to be, but Dean Winchester, no matter what he had been or was now or had been through in the past, was not about to listen to that until the other guy woke up.

He stood and hesitantly made his way back down the little hallway, desperately wishing that the kid would wake up on his own any second, that he wouldn't have to deal with this. But the noise only seemed to grow, seeming to echo off the bare walls and wood floors. He paused outside the door for only a moment before sighing and letting himself in.

"Hey, man," he said gruffly, stomping over to the bed. "Dude, wake up!"

His hand grabbed at the sky covers and pulled, whipping the body beneath from its fetal position and onto its back. Dark hair was wet from sweat, and eyes that sat over a red nose, dry lips, and soft stubble snapped open, revealing a brighter sky than the covers now clutched in Dean's still hand. The eyes found his, and both boys seemed to freeze as realization crept over them.

"Cas?"

"Dean?"


	4. Chapter 4

"What the hell?" Dean practically squeaked in surprise. The absolute last thing in the entire universe he was expecting under the baby blue blankets was an early-twenties Jimmy Novak body. Even a monster wouldn't have been as much of a shock as the toned brief-and-tee-shirt-clad angel before him.

"Dean?" Cas croaked. He stayed very still, as though moving would break the spell.

"Cas? Is.. is that really you?"

* * *

><p>Well of course it was really him. Castiel couldn't fathom any idea why Dean, extremely young but still Dean, would be standing over him demanding to know if he was real.<p>

But.. things were a bit.. fuzzy.

Castiel didn't remember falling asleep. Angels didn't sleep. Unless he had been knocked unconscious? But he couldn't remember that having happened, either. He could barely even remember what he had been doing before falling into the unconscious state. Speaking with.. someone.. maybe even in an argument? Thinking about it made his head ache more than it already was. He felt as though he had definitely been in some sort of intense altercation. His heart was drumming painfully against his ribs unusually fast and he seemed to be out of breath. He swallowed with a small gasp, unsure of what to make of his state.

But Dean was still standing over him, clutching a pale blue blanket for some reason. Wait, but Dean.. ?

"What is going on, Dean?" Castiel asked, abruptly suspicious. His memories of recent events were foggy, but he remembered what his friend was. Or.. had been? The hunter appeared about as normal as an off-age human could.

"I.. well.. nothing's the.. the same." He said, green eyes falling to the mattress as he dropped the blanket. Wait, a mattress?

Castiel took his gaze away from Dean to look about his surroundings for the first time. Bookshelves all around, filled to the point of overflowing with thick volumes, and a soft mattress under him. But even he was different. His vessel's skin was firmer and far less blemished. The scars Jimmy had carried with him since early adulthood were but a blank slate of lightly tanned skin stretched over stronger muscles than to what the middle-aged body was accustomed. Based on the youth of Dean's physique, Castiel thought it was safe to guess that his vessel had been as de-aged as the hunter's.

But such a transformation was.. unlikely. The strength of such an enchantment would be unique to the creature that wielded it. It had to be some kind of illusion, surely. Castiel's eyes found Dean's once more, and he carefully sat up, aware that his skin was sticky with sweat and muscles unusually sore. The hunter took a step back, looking unsure.

"How do you mean, 'nothing's the same'?"

"Everything, man!" Dean huffed, eyes fleeing Castiel's once more as he turned away to begin pacing. "I woke up this morning back in Lawrence, twenty-one again. I.. shit, Cas, my family is alive here. Mom, Dad, Sam, but they're not.. the real ones. Like they're part of this universe and I was just freaking thrown in here. Even Adam's here! Well, Adam was a little different than the real kid, but he and Sam are both like sixteen and we apparently all go hunting monsters as a goddamn family because Mom and Dad killed Azazel before he could get to Sam and-and Christ, Cas! It's a different freaking universe, man!"

Dean paused as he took a breath from his outburst. The sheepish expression as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his head and looked back would have been familiarly endearing had Castiel not been painfully confused. Nothing the hunter said was making sense. They were in an alternate universe? That seemed very unlikely, particularly given that they themselves had been altered. It was typical that a victim could be misplaced into alternate realities, but only in the eyes of others would his biological self appear different.

Castiel abruptly stood up and pressed past Dean, heading for the open doorway.

"Whoa, tiger, where're you going?"

The building they were in was unfamiliar, but Castiel had spent enough time among humans to understand the logic of residential design. He found the restroom and intently stared into the mirror.

As partially expected, Castiel's vessel was also much younger than the original. Blue eyes sat beneath a mop of unruly brown-black hair that was several inches longer than was usual, and his cheeks seemed to be slightly sunken in. His chest and shoulders weren't as broad. But what was more..

Castiel couldn't see his grace.

"See what I mean?"

Dean leaned against the doorframe to cross his arms and stare back at Castiel through the mirror's reflection. But he didn't meet the other's eyes.

"Are you human?" Castiel whispered.

He could feel Dean tense at the pointed question, but Castiel had to know before he could even begin to handle himself.

"Uh.. yeah, actually."

The former angel shifted his gaze to meet Dean's. There was surprise and worry within the fields of green of his irises, emotions Castiel hadn't seen there in some time.

"Thought it was weird.. I don't even remember falling asleep or anything before waking up back in Lawrence." Dean continued. "It'd take a hell of a lot of juice to turn a demon human. No monster or any creature we've come across could do that."

"No, not even angels." Castiel agreed. His eyes dropped, the shame in his humanity beginning to fall into the pits of his chest.

"Are you.. I mean, since I'm human, does that mean - "

"Yes, Dean. I am human as well."

Silence fell between the two. So much had been built and destroyed between them, only to be strained and stretched, blossomed and cut, that even Castiel could feel the awkwardness fill the space between them as though it were a palpable substance. He had wanted to fix what had been broken and rebuild the bond that they would always share, but Castiel was no expert on the emotions of humans. And Dean Winchester was even more complicated than most.

But there were obviously far more pressing matters now. They had been torn from their world to be shrunk in age and power for some unknown reason and by some impossibly powerful creature. That the creature had such abilities to strip an angel of his grace entirely and wholly remove the darkness of a demon in addition to creating or maneuvering universes were key points on which to focus.

"Where are we?" Castiel asked, eyes glaring into the sink.

"Wichita, Kansas," was the answer. "Somewhere in the late 90s or early 2000s for sure. We're, well, in college here. Roommates."

Before Castiel had time to even process the information, let alone reply, a banging downstairs interrupted them. A knock.

"Shit, that'll probably be Mom."

Castiel lowered his eyebrows as his head turned up to Dean's, and the hunter rolled his eyes.

"Tell you later. Just," Another knock, louder this time. "Just go back to your room and pretend to be asleep for a minute."

Dean turned away and thundered down a set of stairs that Castiel hasn't noticed earlier before he could object. But he didn't have it in him to fight or defy Dean at the moment. The hollow cavern where his grace had been was too heavy.

* * *

><p>Dean smacked right into the couch when he hit the ground floor.<p>

"Ugh!" He grunted, curling his surely broken toes angrily as he hobbled towards the knocking. That ugly thing was going to move. "I'm coming, jeez!"

He threw on a smile right before opening the door.

"Hey, honey!" Mary chirped, all smiles.

"Geez, did it take you ten seconds to buy a car?"

Mary frowned. "Dean, all I had to do was sign a few more papers and pick it up. Remember? I bought it last week when we were moving your stuff in."

Oops.

"Anyway," she continued. "I just wanted to stop by and give my big man a hug before I left."

"Sorry, I.. I forgot."

"You forget everything." She replied, stepping past him. Dean shut the door.

Mary stepped up to the kitchen's nearest counter and set her purse down to begin rifling through the inner contents. Not really knowing what to do, Dean walked over to the fridge and opened it.

Beer. Thank god there was beer.

He grabbed two bottles and let the door fall shut, popping one open after setting the other by his mom and her searching. The cold bitterness slid easily down his throat and splashed into his stomach, sending a contradicting warmth up through his chest and shoulders.

"Here it is!" Mary sang as she yanked a folded piece of paper from the depths of her bag. She offered it to Dean.

"What's this?" He asked as he took it.

"Your course schedule." The beer he had set on the counter was relieved of its cap, and Dean watched as Mary took a long drink.

"Course schedule?"

"Yeah, I might have taken it from your room to copy it so I know when I could call."

"Oh."

Oh shit. Dean kept forgetting that he was supposed to be in college in this universe. It seemed like such a central point to remember, but he couldn't help shoving the frightening idea to the back of his mind to focus on the fact that he and Cas were in a different world. The paper suddenly felt hot, or maybe it was just his face. He took another drink.

"Is your roommate here?"

"Uh, yeah, but I think he's asleep."

"Well, you'll have to tell me all about him when he wakes up," Mary quirked her eyebrows and grinned, taking another sip.

Unlikely. He'd have to make something up instead. "Sure."

"I can't stay too long," Mary went on, setting her beer down. "Adam has a game tonight, and I promised him and Sam that we'd go out for dinner first."

"Oh, no problem, Mom. Thanks for.. well, thanks for coming over to say goodbye."

"What are moms for?" Mary smiled, leaned in, and wrapped her arms tightly around Dean's waist.

He almost dropped his beer in his haste to set it down. How often does a guy have the chance to hug his dead mother? Granted, he had had more chances than most, but it didn't mean he didn't take advantage almost every time. He took a deep inhale of her hair as his arms stretched behind her shoulders and back, breathing in her scent. He didn't have vivid memories of what Mary had smelled like when she was alive, but the warm odor of honey and grass had to be right. It just made sense, and it couldn't have felt more right. More.. Mom.

"Love you."

"Love you, too, Mom."

Mary let go far sooner than Dean would have liked, but he knew that it wouldn't do him any favors to hold on forever. Watching her walk through the strange door of his new home hurt more than should have been normal, given how many times he had had to say goodbye in the past. But Dean couldn't bring himself to be angry with it. Whatever monster had done this to him and Cas.. well, it gave Dean a wild sliver of hope that maybe they could actually change things. There were universes, however fake, where things could work.

When his mom shut the door quietly behind her, Dean drained his beer in a final gulp, and turned back towards the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

He was human. Castiel's mind wouldn't stop circling around the thought. He had been human before, sure, but now he was human, practically adolescent, and trapped in a universe that wasn't his own with a friend that he wasn't sure was a friend anymore. But Dean had acted as though the only issue that existed was the problem at hand. Nothing more, nothing less. This was how the hunter would often operate, however. Castiel knew that Dean was a "one problem at a time" kind of person. It was one of his more admirable traits, despite the trouble it had sometimes caused.

The bed in his new room was comfortable. A soft mattress with sheets and blankets that smelled achingly like Heaven, or at least what Castiel associated as Heaven. Freshly cut grass, bountiful flowers, and the warm summer breeze, infused with traces of human sweat. His human sweat.

Castiel groaned quietly and threw his arm over his face as he fell backwards, feet dangling to the floor.

"Alright, she's gone."

Dean was back.

"Your mother, correct?"

"Yeah, she drove me here from Lawrence and bought a new car and came to say goodbye."

"I see."

It was an unnecessary emotion that flooded through Castiel at Dean's words. He couldn't quite place it. Something warm that stung his abdomen and chest that Dean had ordered him to the unfamiliar room, out of sight, so he could say goodbye to his mother alone, no mention of the angel upstairs. It was absurd to have any negative emotion about it at all, of course. It was logical that Dean would wish to not be distracted by the angel and his humanity while giving yet another goodbye to his lost mother. But still, Castiel kept his face covered, not wanting to look into those green eyes at that moment.

Breaking the short silence was a material rustling, similar to book pages being turned with excitement. Castiel moved his arm to look over at the hunter, who was examining a paper in his hands.

"What is that?"

"Uh, course schedule," Dean answered. Green eyes widened in horror as they scanned the page, intriguing Castiel to haul himself back in a sitting position.

"Sorry?"

"We're in college, remember? And we have classes. And good god, why in the hell am I taking these classes?"

"What do you - ?"

"This!" Dean strode over and thrust the piece of paper into Castiel's face. With a quick once-over, the former angel looked up at Dean with a small smile.

"It would appear that you're alternate self has taken an interest in philosophical - "

"'Philosophy of Sex and Love'?!" Dean shouted over him, visibly panicked. "'The Meaning of Life,' 'Science and Religion'? And this last one - 'The Problem of Evil.' What the hell, man? The problem with evil is that whoever the hell put us here has me taking these ridiculous - "

"I would think, after all you've been through, you would have a unique opinion to offer the studies."

Dean glared at him. "Well what are you taking?"

"Well, I.." How was he to know?

"Where's yours?" The taller man demanded, turning to begin rifling through the contents of the bookshelves. "Where's your torture schedule? See who's laughing then."

"Dean, I'm not laughing."

"Here!" He announced, holding a crumpled piece of paper in the air. Dean turned back to Castiel to unravel the page and take it all in.

Castiel sighed and stood, interested despite himself as Dean's face broke into a mischievous grin. The hunter offered the page to him.

"Oh." Was all Castiel could think to say. He found himself nonplussed as he read the courses he was to be expected to take. The paper listed him as a "Psychology Major," so the courses themselves should not have been surprising. And yet, for Castiel to have to participate in whichever ways for them, the classes seemed to shock his system slightly.

"What.. what exactly are these?" He found himself asking. He was glad that his level voice didn't betray his concern.

"Pretty straightforward, I'd say." Dean chuckled, taking the paper back and beginning to read. "'Human Sexuality,' - God, I wish I could be there to watch you listen to that - 'Interpersonal Relationships,' - don't envy you there, that sounds awful - 'Emotion and Human Behavior' and this class about hate and prejudice. Jeez, you're just going to be talking about feelings for months."

That was what made Castiel so uncomfortable. He had long since accepted that he had more human emotions than his brothers and sisters, but to discuss them among other humans, strangers, even? That was.. undesirable.

"Dean, we don't have to attend."

"Uh huh," Dean muttered, glancing at both schedules together now. "Yeah, abandon classes we've both paid for when we're living exactly where anyone at this school can find us - great idea, Cas, really. You're a real Einstein over there."

Castiel could hear the sarcasm that slathered Dean's words, but he couldn't quite place their reason.

"We should be focusing on returning to our own world."

"Yeah, but we can't make anyone here suspicious. We don't have any idea what it is we're up against, and we don't want to piss it off before we know how to kill it. So for now, we play along and do our research on the side, without anyone knowing about it."

Of course that made sense. Castiel had been a warrior, a battle tactician. He knew sacrifices often had to be made and unpleasant decisions were almost inevitable to win the final fight. But this was somehow more frightening than a battle that involved gambling with his life and others'. He mentally shook himself, immediately blaming his sudden humanity on the irrational fear. He was a warrior of God, a soldier of Heaven, an angel that fought his more powerful brothers and won. College could be and would be nothing but a minor annoyance until he and Dean could return to their own world.

"Excellent," Dean said, clapping Castiel on the shoulder. He seemed to have noticed the former angel's change and smiled. "And it looks like we'll at least mostly be doing shit at the same time - a lot of our classes are the same times. Good thing, too. We'll need all our free time to figure this monster out."

And the sooner the better.

"Now, go take a shower, because you stink. We're going to find a library and see if we can't figure out what we're dealing with."

The hand on Castiel's shoulder felt warm. He eyed the hunter, not sure what to expect, but the man just continued to smile before walking towards the hallway.

"If these class schedules are laying around, I bet you anything there's a map of the school somewhere in this place." The hunter called as he rounded the corner and went out of sight. "Meet me downstairs in ten!"

The place where Dean's hand had been felt too cold after the heat, and Castiel couldn't help but wish his only ally in this world would stay by his side. Dean definitely didn't seem to be worrying about the ever-present issues that had plagued their lives in their own world. Though it should have been a concern, Castiel fignited that working together would be much easier if the two of them were to simply fall back into their old, friendly habits. Logically, of course. By no means would it change things back home, once they killed their captor. That would be entirely too much for him to ask. But wish.. he did wish things could be so easily fixed as uncovering and defeating a monster.

Castiel sighed as he began searching for some clean clothing. It was all very, very confusing.

At least showers were comfortable.


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn't that Dean didn't remember just how much he had screwed things up in the real world. It wasn't that he didn't realize how confusing things were between him and Cas. It wasn't that he didn't understand how different things were going to be now that they were both human, trapped alone in this world together as freaking college students. It wasn't that he didn't know Cas would be furious about all of it.

No, Dean was aware. But showcasing all those emotions that he hadn't felt in what felt like months or years would never help them solve this. He'd rather be putting all his energy into making sure they made it back home, making sure Cas had his grace back. He owed Cas that much after everything the angel had done for him.

A small part of him hoped that maybe he could use the time they were stuck here to patch shit up and actually hear one another out. He knew he could be a shit listener whenever the speaker had an opinion he didn't like. He knew. But perhaps here, with only the distraction of trying to find a single monster, he could swallow that pointless stubbornness and just talk to Cas.

Damn, his renewed human emotions were really making him a sap.

He needed to focus on finding that map instead of staring at the couch like a teenage girl lost in a daydream.

The downstairs area wasn't as cluttered as Cas's room, but there were a few piles of papers and thin books on the countertops and a spiral or two on the table. His fake self was supposed to have gone to this university for some three years, so he would be expected to know the campus. But there was always the hope that maybe Cas's other half was a transfer. In any case, Dean liked maps. It would make sense if he still kept one he didn't really need.

"Bingo."

Third pile in the kitchen, halfway through the stack, was a well-loved, somewhat faded black and white print out of the campus and surrounding streets. Being on a single piece of paper, everything was scaled down enough that Dean had to squint to make out the names, but it didn't bother him. This map, however old and mistreated, was progress.

It looked like the building Dean had mistaken for a library on his drive over was actually an administration building, and the library was smack in the middle of the main campus. Granted, that still didn't look far. Probably no more than ten minutes on foot, and walking was the only way to maneuver the interior campus.

"Have you found anything?"

"JESUS!" Dean jumped a mile out of his skin and spun around, arms raised in preparation for defense. But it was just Cas, standing too close behind him.

"Don't do that!" Dean snapped.

"My apologies." Cas took a step back, and Dean felt like the angel's new appearance smacked him in the face all at once.

Cas had always stood an inch or two shorter than Dean, but the difference hadn't been enough that the hunter felt like he was looking down on Cas. The angel now, however, was several inches shorter than he was. Dean had mostly stayed the same height since he hit twenty, but it looked like Jimmy had been shorter until closer to thirty. The hair on top of Cas's head would probably be just tall enough to tickle Dean's nose. But it wasn't even the height that had the hunter staring.

Cas was out of that trench coat, and damn it if he didn't look worlds different simply without it back in their world. Here, it was like Cas had taken a different vessel, standing there in casual khaki pants that were a little too tight and a ruby polo that clung to his biceps. But that jawline, littered with the dark beginnings of stubble, and those insanely blue eyes couldn't be anyone else.

"Dean?"

The hunter blinked several times and cleared his throat. Now wasn't really the time to be checking out his friend.

Wait, no. Not checking out.

"I found a map of the area." Dean said, answering far too loudly and far too late for it to have any hopes of sounding normal. But thank god things like that went straight over Cas's head.

"I found these in our rooms." The angel held up two backpacks, one navy blue and the other a forest green. "I figured that we could bring home any books we might need."

"Great idea, man." Dean slipped the green one over his shoulder and grabbed the map. He walked past Cas, feeling more than seeing his friend begin to follow him towards the door. "It looks like the library's pretty close, so we can get started right away."

"That would be best."

* * *

><p>They'd been at it for hours. Dean was practically glaring at the book he currently had propped open in front of him, silently threatening it to give him the information he needed. But, as with the several books and handful of leaflets and articles he had been through already, there was nothing. No creature or god that they had ever encountered, nor any "mythological beings" described in any of the textbooks available, came close to what they needed. There seemed to be no answer to the most important question: what could turn an angel and a demon human in the midst of a kidnapping and universe-jump?<p>

_Whack._

Dean's head snapped up from the book and found Cas gingerly touching a red spot on his forehead. With how hunched over the angel was and given that his eyes were barely open, it wasn't hard to figure out what had happened. He stifled a laugh.

"Alright, sleepyhead, I guess it's time to go."

"I can continue, Dean."

But of course he couldn't. Dean could tell by his friend's soft mumble and half-hearted turn of the page that Cas was way out of it. He looked up at a nearby clock on the wall and raised his eyebrows.

"Cas, it's almost ten. We've been going at it for over nine hours and got nothing to show for it. We can try again tomorrow. Besides, you're not used to sleeping and I think you overdid it."

Cas shot him a bleary scowl. "And when was the last time you slept?"

"I've been human before - you're more used to being a zombie with wings."

He expected Cas to snap back, claiming that angels had no relation to zombies or something equally as ridiculous, but instead, the angel rolled his eyes and began to pack up the books that he hadn't been able to read yet. He must be exhausted if he didn't feel the need to correct Dean, so the hunter followed suit without another word.

But the trek home was cut short as the two stepped out into the cool summer air. A loud rumble erupted from Cas, causing them both to stop and stare down at the angel's stomach.

"Dude, did you eat today?"

"I've been with you all day."

Guilt flooded Dean. He should've realized that Cas would have to eat now and found them some food before hitting the books. The sullen expression that overcame Cas's face hit Dean right in his gut. A hungry growl of his own shook his belly then, and Cas's face lit up with a sleepy smile.

"It would seem that you've neglected yourself as well."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, well, what'd'you expect from a couple of hunters? C'mon, let's find some grub."

The campus map helped them find a building that hosted a number of small food joints, including burgers, pizza, smoothies, coffee, even an elaborate salad bar that Sam would've loved. The cafeteria-style food stations covered the edges of the building, forming a ring around the tables and chairs that filled the center. Being as it was fairly late, only a few tables were occupied by other students.

"Go have find a seat," Dean said, handing his backpack over to Cas. "I'll grab us some burgers and we can look at a few more things while we eat."

Cas nodded and left, leaving Dean to approach the 'Burgers and Fries!' portion of the food wall.

"What can I get ya, sugah?"

The lady was a larger woman with dark skin and short curly hair that was confined within a hair net. Dean gave her a winning smile and leaned in.

"Two of your best burgers, m'lady."

She giggled, more high-pitched than he expected. "Oh, you boys are all the same - flirtin' with a woman twice yo' age just 'cause you can."

She handed him two pre-prepped burgers on a single plate.

"Oh, I actually need - "

"Not that I'm complainin', o' course." She continued, smiling affectionately. "The fixin's are just behind you, baby. Tonight's on the house for all you kiddies comin' back to school."

"Oh, well, thank you." He turned around, figuring that it wasn't a big deal to share a plate with Cas. It'd save room at the table for their books, at least. He shrugged, telling himself how little of a deal it was, as he headed over to the little section of the salad bar that had all the possible wishes and desires for smothering a burger.

He had just started pouring an unnecessary amount of ketchup onto his burger when Dean was interrupted.

"Ready for a new semester?"

Dean turned his head, still half-focused on his ketchup, and came face to face with a girl that was at least ten years younger than - wait, no - about his age, maybe just a little younger. But with girls, it was almost impossible to tell. Half the time, they were older than they looked.

"Uh, yep." He wasn't sure if he was supposed to know the tiny brunette.

"Sorry for being so forward," she said with a grin. She reached out and grabbed the bottle of mayonnaise and began squeezing some onto a burger of her own. "I'm just a little too friendly for my own good. I'm Evelyn, by the way."

Dean set the ketchup down to shake her extended hand. "Dean."

"You just here for the last few days of free food?"

He chuckled. "Not exactly. Moved in today and went to the library."

"Oh wow, prepping for classes already?"

"Nah, my buddy and I were looking into something for my little brother." Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. Figuring out the monster would help them find their way back to Sam. He tossed a handful of pickles and onions onto their food.

"Ah, neat. Mind if I eat with you guys?"

"Uh.. " Dean paused as he made to put the burgers back together. Was that a good idea? Would it cause more suspicion to isolate himself and Cas from all the students or to have others be subject to Cas's.. well, Cas-ness?

"It's okay if not." Evelyn said, interrupting Dean's musings. Her eyes were a dull gray, but they shone with kindness.

Eh, screw it.

"Nah, no worries! Sorry, I was just wondering how you'd take my buddy," Dean replied hastily. "He's a little goofy, is all."

"Oh, I like goofy!" She giggled.

They lifted their plates, and Dean quietly led the way over to where Cas was sitting, at a table furthest from all the other students in the room. He had a book already open and was reading intently.

Dean cleared his throat as they approached, and Cas looked up to meet his eyes. A second passed in which they simply stared, until Dean blinked and gestured to Evelyn.

"Cas, this is Evelyn. Just met her up at the burger bar."

Those blue eyes wandered onto the petite figure of the girl and Dean watched as the angel's brow furrowed, his gaze hardening with mistrust.

"She's super nice." Dean said pointedly, dropping into the chair beside his friend.

Evelyn followed just a beat later, sitting opposite from Cas's intense gaze. Dean nudged his knee with his own, and the angel glanced over.

"Hey, Cas, is it?" Evelyn asked shyly.

"Castiel."

"But we usually call him Cas."

"Dean, you and Sam are practically the only ones worth mentioning in my life that call me that."

Dean actually kicked Cas this time. What the hell was with him all of the sudden? They glared at each other for a moment before Evelyn spoke again, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"So what were you guys looking into at the library?"

"Oh, mythical beasts," Dean answered, grateful for a reason to look away from Cas, who grabbed one of the burgers and began eating furiously. "My brother Sam's a nut about them and wanted the, uh, 'college' view on them."

"He's younger?"

"Yeah, by four years."

"That must be neat - I'm an only child myself."

Dean snorted as he took a bite of his own burger. "Sounds peaceful."

"I think 'boring' is the word you're looking for," she teased. "What about you, Cas?"

Cas opened his mouth, but Dean spoke over him, fearing what the oblivious angel might say. "Cas has a bunch of brothers and sisters. He's somewhere in the middle."

"Wow, it must be a full house back at home!"

"It's more like war than the TV show, I assure you." Cas muttered.

Dean couldn't help it. He laughed, mouth full of half-chewed burger and all.

Evelyn turned out being a philosophy major like Dean. She was even in one of his classes - 'The Problem of Evil.' She was particularly excited about the course, excitement that Dean tried to fake, but the girl was smart. She saw through his words and tactfully expressed her understanding that such discussions weren't exactly easy. She was kind, even through Cas's short replies and less-than-friendly tone. Personally, Dean liked her.

"Are you guys in the dorms?" Evelyn asked once they had eaten and Cas had pointedly stood up with his book back in his backpack.

Dean rolled his eyes at Cas before answering. "Nah, we're in these apartments just off campus."

"Senior Road?"

"Uh.. " What?

"The little road with all the town homes - it's where all the seniors with good GPAs are placed if they don't live at home." She explained.

"Oh, yeah. Liberty Town Homes."

"Cool! I'm still in the dorms, but I think I'll be there next semester!"

"Ahh," Dean muttered. His ability to fake the right thing to say was fading with his growing fatigue. Add a good burger and he was quickly becoming useless. "Well, I think we should be heading back now. Cas obviously thinks we got to go."

He nodded toward his friend, stiffly standing near the building's front doors with folded arms while he glared into the darkness. Evelyn just giggled.

"He's cute."

"Sorry he was a dick. Not sure what's up with him, but to be honest, he's usually like that."

"Jealousy does funny things to people."

"What?" Dean's head snapped back to Evelyn from his half-gaze at Cas, eyes wide with confusion. But she just shrugged.

"Don't sweat it - I personally think it's cute as hell. But my dorm's faster to get to with the back doors. I'll see you Monday, 'kay?" And with nothing more but a big smile and a goofy little wave, she turned right around and left Dean standing alone with his swirl of puzzling thoughts.

It took a physical shake to break himself away from wondering what on earth Evelyn meant. It was late, and no doubt Cas was as exhausted as he was.

"Dude, why'd you have to be an ass the whole time?" He asked as they stepped into the night together.

Cas gripped the straps of his backpack tighter, lips pressing tight together as though he were testing to see how thin he could make them.

"Cas?"

The angel spoke tersely through clenched teeth. "I do not understand your impossible desire to copulate with ever woman you see while we are in the middle of trying to find a way home."

Oh. So Evelyn was right, in a way. Dean would have laughed if the idea that Cas was jealous of some random girl they had a harmless dinner with wasn't so.. pleasing. The soft patter of satisfaction that drummed along with his heartbeat felt too loud, and Dean forced a single laugh from his belly.

"Jesus, Cas, I wasn't trying to screw her," he said with mock exasperation. "She asked to sit with us and I didn't think it'd be as big a deal as it was. Calm down, man."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I misunderstood your intentions."

He rolled his eyes as they rounded the turn that would give them a straight shot back to the apartment. "Big surprise there."

But when Cas glared his way this time, Dean smiled. Those big blue eyes squinted with confusion, and he couldn't really help but sling his arm around Cas's shoulders and pull him into his side. Besides, they had walked like this a time or two before. And with Cas being as short as he was now, it was even easier to move in sync. It wasn't weird, and it wasn't Dean enjoying his angel's warmth pressed again him.

Definitely not.


	7. Chapter 7

Fire. There was fire everywhere, like the living interior of a volcano, dark from the lack of light but bright from the ever-moving swirl of flames and embers. Hanging and lying everywhere, tied and chained, bloodied, burned, charred, sweating, were bodies. Bodies of the damned, bodies of strangers.

All strangers but one.

Castiel's feet were melting into the molten ground as he stared into the cavernous sky, teary eyes locked onto the mangled body of his one friend, his charge, his real family.

"Dean!" His scream tore his blistering throat and echoed eerily off the flames and darkness. Dean's sunken eyelids did not move.

He tried desperately to move his wings and his feet. But he was sinking into the fiery floor, the bones in his ankles and below already long since liquidized. The pain was nothing compared to the terror that plagued him.

"Dean!" He cried again, the boiling tears finally falling, only to be turned to steam seconds later. The hunter remained motionless, and though he was in Hell, though he was dead, his soul would soon perish, and it would be too late to ever save him.

Castiel could see the bright shine of Dean's soul failing him, growing dimmer by the second, a phenomenon that was so rare, yet so likely, that there was nothing even God could do to bring it back once gone. Dean would be nothing but a memory. No afterlife, no chance of revival, gone. The light in his chest's center was nearly gone, and Castiel could only reach out with boiled skin and shattered wings, melded to the ground.

"DEAN!"

* * *

><p>"Cas!"<p>

Castiel's eyes snapped open as he cried out once more with a loud gasp. His vision was blurry, and it took a few times blinking through the thick saltiness for him to dispel the warm tears that coated his eyes. Dean was right above him on the couch on which they had been researching that entire new day. The young face and bright green eyes so close to his were lined with panic and worry, their chests close enough that the former angel could tell their hearts were racing almost in unison.

"D-Dean?" His hands flew up and clutched Dean's arms with as much strength as he could muster - he had to know he was really there.

"You're okay."

Castiel couldn't place (and he doubt that he ever could) what it was about that simple phrase that broke him. It began slowly, just his hands beginning to shake, and suddenly, he felt his lips being to quiver. Face muscles tensed oddly as heat scorched his eyes and his vision began to swim again. It was as though an ancient dam was hit with all the floods of the earth, stable but weakened by the sudden onslaught of millions of years of restrained power.

Castiel wasn't used to dreaming in the way humans did. Human dreams, pure human dreams, were run based off emotion entirely, and it seemed as though this time.. they were harder to keep in check. He had never truly wept. Grief and sorrow were expressed more gracefully in Heaven than the quivering wet mess that was human despair. Castiel knew how uncomfortable such displays were for Dean, and he hated himself for allowing his weakened state to further drive a rut between them.

But the hunter's eyes didn't widen in renewed panic. His arms didn't seize with the desire to flee under Castiel's fingers. No.. maybe it was the former angel's distressed state, but he thought Dean seemed to soften, dilated eyes losing their frantic edge. Castiel badly suppressed a wet whimper.

"Hey, man.. you're alright." Dean spoke softly as his eyes seemed to search Castiel's. "You're okay. You're safe."

But how could he tell the hunter that it wasn't himself for which he was terrified? Dean might not have run yet, but such a confession would surely be too much. All he could do was continue to stare shamelessly into those green irises while he caught his breath.

"Pretty rough nightmare?" Dean's voice was gravelly. Castiel nodded. "Want a beer?"

Another nod, and he felt a tight pang in his chest as the hunter's arms slid from his grip. He took a few deep breaths as he stayed on the couch and Dean's footsteps echoed towards the kitchen. There was a set of bottles clinking together, and Castiel sat up. His shirt stuck to his sweaty skin. Hair hung damp over his eyes, clinging to his forehead.

With the scattered books all over and around the couch as well as his stiff back, it seemed as though he had fallen asleep in the midst of their second day of researching. They had woken up shortly after the sunrise to begin going through the texts they had brought back, ordering pizza and these intoxicating sodas that Castiel hadn't had in the past. A swift check of the clock said it was nearly nine. Nearly twelve solid hours in addition to the day before had given them absolutely nothing.

"Here."

The beer was very welcoming to Castiel's fried nerves and barely-stopped tears. Chilled bitterness that eased the pounding of his heart splashed through him as he took in several gulps. When he resurfaced, he saw Dean, still standing over him, raise his eyebrows.

"Damn. Must've been hell."

If only he knew. "My.. emotions are stronger this time, particularly when I dream it would seem."

"Dude," Dean sat back down, his knee close enough to gently graze Castiel's knee but not quite touch. "Dreams suck sometimes, I don't think it's got anything to do with _how_ human you are. Just the fact that you _are_ human."

"I have dreamed and slept before, but nothing quite like this." It was difficult to keep his frustration from his voice. "The feelings were, and are.. uncontrollable."

A small tear slipped onto his cheek, running down the trails left by those that he shed so openly a moment ago. He looked down.

"Hey," Dean leaned forward and gently clapped a hand onto Castiel's knee. The hunter's skin seemed to burn him through his jeans. "Let's call it a night with the research, huh? Watch a movie, have a couple beers, it'll help take you're mind off it."

Castiel was distracted by the touch. The heat was a blessing compared to the inferno of his nightmare, cooler but also a definite encouragement that Dean was there, alive, well, and offering him some time to calm down before facing the nightmares again. When Dean gave his knee a small squeeze, Castiel nodded his agreement.

"Alright, I've got just the movie for you." Dean said with a grin. He stood and opened the doors to the inner shelves of the black piece their television was on, dug around inside for a second, and turned back to show Castiel the worn out cover of a tape.

"'Angels in the Outfield'?" He asked.

"Oh yeah, a classic, trust me."

"Of course."

Dean froze for a moment, eyes on Castiel, before turning away to set up the movie. The former angel wasn't sure if he had offended his friend in some way, but something told him that that wasn't it. But he couldn't put his finger on the feeling he thought he may have stirred in Dean with his soft agreement of trust.

With Dean returned at his side on the couch, Castiel fell back into the cushions. He took another drink from the bottle and set his eyes to the screen. Despite the rush of discomforting emotions draining him, he was eager to see this movie. He did always think humans took the joys of watching film for granted.

But he didn't last very long. Once the previews for other movies were finished, Castiel only saw the few opening scenes that set the tone for the main character's upsetting backstory. And that was when sleep caught back up to him, and the world faded into a comfortable darkness.

* * *

><p><em>Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.<em>

Castiel's throat rumbled with a quiet groan. What in all of creation was making such an obnoxious sound while he was trying to sleep? And so close to his ear, too..

_Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep._

He was so comfortable. The softness beneath cradled him, propping his head up just enough that his neck wasn't aching. Not even that, but he was covered by the warmest pillow he had ever encountered, and his hands were wound into the firm material, pulling it closer. Castiel shifted slightly, and he cracked his eyes open.

_Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep._

Dark blonde-brown hair. Just below his chin. He blinked several times, escaping the fuzziness of his sleepy vision. When he looked down again, he distinctly felt the heat of a blush creeping into his face.

_Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep._

Castiel was lying on his back, spread out over most of the couch's length, head propped up by the armrest. And to his absolute amazement and confusion, Dean was lying right on top of him.

Well, perhaps right on top of him was not quite right. His head was heavy on the center of Castiel's chest, shoulders well-covering his waist and abdomen. The hunter's arms were stretched up and around - one was being crushed beneath the weight of Castiel's back while the other was resting somewhere near the former angel's shoulder. Castiel's own hands were clinging to the material of Dean's shirt, just below the shoulder blades and right above where the other's body began to twist and fell onto the cushions right beside Castiel's small frame. Their lower halves were nothing but a tangle of legs. It was so close and intimate, so.. wonderful.

_Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep._

But this was bad. There was no possible way Castiel could extricate himself from the couch without waking Dean, and thus alerting him to their compromising position, something Dean would undoubtedly place in the more severe category of "personal boundaries." Not without his grace.

_Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep._

"Eh, shaddup." Dean was awake.

Castiel didn't know what to do. The hand beneath him wriggled free and Dean propped himself up, legs still a mess with the former angel's, to mess with his wristwatch. The source of the annoying sound.

The beeping stopped, and Dean looked down at Castiel, who held his breath.

"'S six-thirty. We got shit at eight."

"Oh." Did he not see how close they were? Did he not realize that they had apparently fallen asleep together?

But Dean just yawned. "Want the firs' shower?"

"Uh.. yes.. thank you."

Dean heaved himself off of Castiel, carefully extracting his legs from the tangle with the former angel's, and offered a hand out. Castiel allowed the hunter to help him to his feet but watched him closely. Perhaps he wasn't fully awake, and that was why Castiel hadn't been yelled at yet. Or maybe.. just maybe..

But Castiel didn't allow himself such hope. He walked off towards the stairs, glad for a moment alone with his strange thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean Winchester was a cuddler. Not that he'd ever be shouting it from the rooftops or anything, but yeah, he liked to cuddle. It didn't even have to be the sexy kind of cuddling, either. Just to lie down with another warm body, pull theirs close to yours, or even just have an arm or a leg pressed together, was the only real intimacy outside of sex that he allowed himself. But never with Cas.

Not that the thought hadn't crossed his mind ever. No, it had sprung up unexpectedly here and there, making Dean lose his train of thought mid-sentence or drop whatever he was holding. He wasn't exactly the womanizer he once was, but he hadn't quite spoken his curiosity out loud yet. Nor was he planning on it. But that didn't stop Dean from the occasional wondering of how different it would be to cuddle the athletic tone of a man over the petite frame of a woman.

"Alright, it looks like we're out of time for today, so remember to write down the assignment due next Monday, and I'll see you all on Wednesday."

The abrupt raise in his professor's voice startled Dean into straighter posture and an awkward clearing of the throat. He hadn't really meant to lose focus. He had never been to a college class, but damn were his first two boring as hell. All he had done in both was sit in the tiny hard-as-a-freaking-rock chair with the too-small drop-down desk for an hour each and listen to the two men go on and on about the syllabus. Halfway through his first course, Science and Religion, Dean had realized that literally everything he was jotting down was on the copy handed out in the first five minutes. Since then, his attention had wandered aimlessly.

"Wow, now that couldn't have been more of a bore." Evelyn said from his right.

Dean snorted. "You're telling me. At least you kept taking notes."

"Nah, I was doodling." The girl held up the notebook he had seen her scribbling in to reveal a very detailed sketch of their professor.

"Oh wow," he said with a laugh. "At least I wasn't the only one."

Though Cas hadn't seemed to like her, Dean was glad Evelyn had ended up being in his Problem of Evil class. It meant that there was at least one friendly face he'd see whenever he and Cas had to separate, and it was a nice feeling. Too, maybe she could help him bullshit his way through the coursework so he could focus on figuring out the monster that had captured them.

They left the lecture hall together just after eleven in the morning.

"Any more classes today?" Evelyn asked.

"Nah, just two today and two tomorrow." He replied as they passed through the doors leading to the sunlit warmth of August. "Going to find Cas at the psychology building now."

"Well, I have another class in a bit across campus. But I wanted to ask you, Dean," the young woman lifted her eyes to his and smiled shyly. He quirked an eyebrow, a strange but effective way of encouragement.

Evelyn laughed. "I was wondering if you and Castiel would want to come out with me and a few friends this Friday. It's my 21st birthday, so it'll be more of a party night. But I figured it'd be a great way to end the first week of classes and we could all get to know each other."

"Oh," Dean was really hoping that he and Cas would be gone and back home in their own universe by then. But she looked so hopeful, grey eyes shining a little too bright in the sun as she bit her lip in anticipation. Only having hesitated for a second, Dean threw on a smile and nodded. "Yeah, definitely."

"Oooh, wonderful!" She squealed with a full-body wiggle. She reached into her backpack, withdrew a tiny piece of paper, and shoved it into Dean's hand. "This is my number - I know we'll see each other on Wednesday, but just in case! Just give me a call Friday morning and hopefully by then my friends will have made a game plan. I think you two will like them. They're angels!"

There weren't words to describe why the way Evelyn said 'angels' made him think that.. as crazy as it sounded.. maybe they were actually angels. Real angels, like Cas. It was the strangest feeling that clawed at his chest, but it was strong.

"Oh, and also, I copied the assignment down for you, too, since you seemed a little bit more distracted than I was." She teased, offering him another paper.

Mentally shaking himself, Dean took the folded notebook paper with a smile. "Thanks."

"Well, see you Wednesday!" And with an enthusiastic wave, Evelyn left.

The feeling continued to tug at him.

* * *

><p>11:15am. Only five more minutes.<p>

Castiel hadn't had any idea what to expect from his classes that morning, but almost three hours of two people droning on endlessly about the classroom guidelines and grades was not it. He was grateful that the human sexuality course only required reading and excelling on just three exams. It would require the least amount of work. His class over interpersonal relations, however, seemed to be more.. active. For one, they were expected to keep a journal of their experiences when using techniques learned in the course on their own friends and family, something he was not eager to begin.

"Okay, okay, I know we're almost out of time and that all this syllabus talk has most of you kiddos asleep." The professor, a tall man wearing pastels named Gary Slone, fussed.

Castiel nodded in agreement, hoping that they would be released. Dean had been very firm with him that morning - 'stay in the class until the teacher says it's over,' 'we have to blend in for now.'

The man continued, "But before you all go, I want to make sure you write this down:"

With a tired sigh, Castiel lifted his pencil to the open notebook before him.

"Create a stack of notecards for me where on each notecard you describe how you and a person in your life's relationship works. How you see them, how you think they see you, what kinds of things you do with them or talk to them about, etc. Keep it fairly simple, but focus on the 'what we are are far as labels go' aspect of it."

Gary spoke slowly and clearly as the students seated around the room copied his words. Castiel opted to paraphrase, not enjoying the small muscles that pulled in his hand when he wrote. As people finished, they began to stand and toss things into their bags, readying to leave.

"Make sure you bring them, guys, because we're doing an activity on Wednesday with them!" The professor called over the light breakout of conversation.

As others began to exit the small classroom, Castiel figured that it would be safe to assume the class was dismissed. He gathered his notebook and pencil, shoved them into his backpack, and made his way into the hallway. His last class was near the front doors, which was a relief. Less to learn and closer to the warm breeze that he desperately needed.

"Oi Cas!"

Castiel turned his head slightly and spotted Dean, who was standing up from a bench that sat against the wall in the foyer. The former angel felt himself tense. He hadn't seen his friend since that morning, when things had become.. close. He had been under the impression that Dean hadn't been fully awake as they readied and walked to the campus, and perhaps that was why the hunter had not properly berated Castiel for invading his personal space. But they were both well awake now, and he felt sure his gruff friend would address what occurred on the couch.

Dean raised his eyebrows as Castiel approached him, blue eyes angled down and fingers fiddling with his backpack straps. "How'd yours go?"

"My what?"

The hunter rolled his eyes. "Your classes, Cas."

"The professors seemed very absorbed with the syllabus."

Dean laughed as he led the way outside. "Amen, man. Almost fell asleep a couple times."

Chilled skin relaxed instantly as Castiel stepped into the hot air outside. He had been practically frozen all morning, and the heat was a relief. Beside him, Dean stretched lazily with a soft groan.

He didn't seem to be angry.

"So I think it's safe to say the library here is a useless heap of nothing." Dean said when he was done.

"Yes, it would seem that there is nothing that has helped us thus far in finding out what creature has done this to us. Nothing substantial."

"Yeah. Uh, hey," Dean moved closer to Castiel and lowered his voice. "Do you think angels exist in this world?"

The shorter man tilted his head. "It is impossible to tell easily without my grace," he answered slowly.

"But they might, right? I mean, there are still monsters and demons running around here."

"There are?" A nervous shiver tickled at Castiel's spine. Demons and monsters loose amok a world that potentially did not have angels? It was a frightening thought.

"Oh yeah, something I picked up on on my first day here." Dean said, and the former angel raised a brow in silent inquiry. Before them, their apartment complex came into view. "My mom was talking about hunting."

"Logically, if demons exist, angels should as well."

"Any way to know for sure?"

"Dean, why are you so abruptly concerned with angels?"

The hunter cast him a sheepish glance while he waited for Castiel to unlock their front door. "Well.. it was something Evelyn said. It's probably nothing, but my guy's telling me that she knows angels. You know, real ones. Which, weirdly enough, she wants us to meet and go party with this Friday for her birthday."

As they moved through the stuffed air of their kitchen, depositing bags on the table with relief, Castiel's eyes hardened. Dean's gut instincts were almost always correct. It was what made him naturally excel at hunting. And if demons existed in this world, there was no sound reason why angels would not.

Angels in this universe, be they the brothers and sisters Castiel knew from their world or not, would be a strange addition to the little information he and Dean had gathered so far. It would mean that Castiel had not been turned human simply because there lacked angelic entities here but for another purpose, mostly likely something sinister. But to meet the angels here.. it was an intoxicating hope that threatened to consume him for a moment.

"Wait," he said, freezing and shooting a confused glare at Dean. "She wants us to do what with them?"

Dean's cell phone, which had been abandoned on the kitchen counter the day before, began to ring, a tinny little attempt at a classic rock and roll melody.

"She said that she and her friends are going out this Friday for her birthday or whatever, and then told me that they were angels and we'd 'just love them,'" he explained, throwing up finger quotes as he made his way to his phone. "It was something about how she said it that made me think they might be actual angels."

"Well, we'll need to attend in order to know for sure." Castiel stated flatly. The idea of.. 'partying' with potential angels was understandably discomforting, but this was the pair's first real break in finding a way home.

A few yards away in the kitchen, Dean answered his phone.

"Hello?"

His tone indicated that he had been unsure of whether or not to answer, and it intrigued Castiel to look over curiously. The hunter was listening with an arm bracing the counter, looking bored. But only for a moment. In barely ten seconds, his beautiful green eyes were widening, lips going a bit slack, and his shoulders visibly tensed.

"Sam?" Dean gasped. "Sammy? Is that really you?"


	9. Chapter 9

Cas stood shock still in the living area, ocean eyes narrowed in understandable confusion. How would Dean have felt being the third party of this phone conversation?

When Dean had checked his phone, he almost hadn't answered it. It was a number listed as 'unknown,' and though he didn't have reservations for such things back in his own world, he had felt an initial need to be cautious here.

Thankfully, he answered anyway.

"Dean?" A familiar voice had replied. "Hey, sorry, the office just told me you called. Everything okay? I won't be out of work til about four, but I can swing by and - "

And that was all Dean really needed to hear. Sam's voice - older than the teenager he had left in Lawrence but younger than his own Sammy - had him convinced of one of two things: the voice on the other end was some kind of insane, one-in-a-bajillion-chance fluke, or the Sam on the other end was another version of Sam, hopefully in the same manner Dean and Cas were. So he took the small risk.

"Sam?" He had asked breathlessly. "Sammy? Is that really you?"

Cas was eyeing him from across the room in a frantically silent plea for understanding while Dean clutched the dinosaur phone tightly to his ear. There was no way that this was what he thought it was.. right?

Silence filled the line for several seconds before Sam's voice buzzed back through, slow and careful.

"Dean? Uh.. Dean Winchester?"

"Yes, Sam!" The desire to roll his eyes was strong, but the need for answers was stronger. "Are you stuck in the same whacked out alternate universe as me and Cas?"

"Oh my god." Relief coated Sam's reply. "Dean, the real one? Not the doctor, but my actual brother?"

In spite of himself, Dean snorted. "Doctor? Jeez, Sam, where are you, man?"

"Same place as you is my guess. Lawrence, Kansas, 2007?"

"Uh.. " Dean's heart fell, the beating slowing with disappointment and utter confusion. "No. Cas and I are in Wichita, year 2000."

Cas's curiosity seemed to finally take control, and the angel stepped closer, wishing to know what was being said.

"What? Are you sure? And Cas is with you? Actual Cas?"

"Of course I'm sure, Sam! We're both 21, and we're students at the state college." Cas was standing on the other side of the kitchen counter, tilting his head and eyeing Dean with those big eyes. The ridiculous phone the hunter was using didn't have a speaker option he could immediately find, so he waved the angel over to stand next to him and held the phone between them.

"College?"

"Yeah, studying religion and philosophy and Cas has a bunch of psychology classes." Dean grunted. "What kind of a world did you wake up in?"

"Well, I'm 24 and.. well.. "

"What?"

Sam chuckled softly through the line. Dean and Cas shared a puzzled look. "Dude, I'm a kindergarten teacher."

And though everything was all wrong, though the world was completely upside down and apparently even involved in some kind of Crichton time-warp, Dean laughed.

"Shut up," Sam snapped. "Do you have any idea what I've been doing all morning? Trying to corral twenty five-year-olds and keep them from killing each other or eating crayons. I've been sneezed on like thirty times, and I still have another four hours of this, man."

As Sam only served to send Dean into another howling laughter, Cas spoke over the noise beside him.

"It would be safe to assume that you were affected by the same creature we were, then."

"Yeah," Sam said, tone indicating both frustration with his brother and thoughtfulness over the situation. "I've been trying to research the past two days, but there's nothing about actually altering a victim's body. I take it you guys were changed physically, too?"

"Yes, we both are physically our new age." The angel glared at Dean, who was still laughing over the image of gigantor Sam chasing a bunch of kids.

"So it has to be some kind of alpha or a new thing, right?" Sam continued. "But it doesn't make any sense why Dean's cell phone number from our world connects us."

Dean took a steadying breath and stood up straighter, smirking at Cas's half-hearted scowl. "Maybe yours works, too, Sammy."

"It's possible." The angel answered. His eyes met Dean's, and the hunter felt himself going a little stupid, drowning in the blue that rippled across those irises.

It was one of those times that his natural curiosity threatened to overtake him. He hadn't paid much attention to how close they were standing in order for them both to hear Sam, but in the beat of quiet following Cas's words, Dean felt as if he became all-too aware at once. The angel's foot was planted inches from his, making him - as was usual - very much in Dean's personal space. Shoulders a hair away from grazing and the angel's humid breath ticking the hand holding out the phone between them. Cas's glare softened, and a wild wish to lean in just that last milimeter to feeling the angel's warm shoulder on his swelled most prominent in his mind.

And it felt kind of nice.

"Shit, guys, I gotta go," Sam said, his voice like a pinch in the underarm to Dean. He coughed and tore his eyes from Cas. "A bell rang, and I think I'm supposed to go pick up the kids I'm teaching."

Dean forced out a laugh. "Go get'em, teach."

"Very funny. Try my cell number around four, okay? We'll see if it works both ways, then go from there."

The line cut out, and Sam was gone.

Dean's relief in Sam's relative safety overwhelmed him very suddenly. It was like actually being 21 again, when the only thing in the whole world worth living for was keeping an eye on his kid brother. When the thought of losing him was enough to bring the hard hearted man he had grown to be to tears every time, when there were never any 'acceptable losses,' when the worst thing that had divided them was Sam running away to college.

He set the phone down and closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself from such an unexpected passion that had never quite died, but had receded in the past several years of shit they had all been through. He had slowly accepted that his baby brother was a grown ass man and could make the weightier decisions back in their world, that he could take care of himself. Here, that frighteningly overprotective guidance he had used to raise Sammy felt renewed.

"Dean?"

He opened his eyes and found blue that a little too close. "Yeah?"

But the angel didn't seem to know. At least, he didn't say anything. Cas simply did what Cas did best - he stared. Those ocean eyes searched for something Dean couldn't figure in his, still just inches away. The apartment was already warm from the heat outside. Add an angel up in your bubble, and it was perfectly reasonable for Dean to feel the heat rising in his neck and cheeks. All he could think to do was stare back, shamelessly taking in every detail of his friend's eyes - how they had a small tint of sea green close to the pupil that faded into the deeper blue seamlessly, how dilated the black always became the longer they stared, as though Cas discovered something worthwhile there each and every time. Dean felt his weight shift from his heels, body beginning to cut into the air between them as the pressure grew on his toes, going closer..

_Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiing!_

The landline hung beside the refrigerator shot through Dean like a knife, making him jump a foot in the air and back. He glared at the old phone, hating and loving it. What in the world was he even doing?

_Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiing!_

_Something awesome_, he thought.

_Jesus Christ, no, something super weird,_ he argued.

_Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiing!_

He looked back at Cas, not sure if he was feeling guilty or embarrassed or maybe both, and the angel just gave him a small smile before turning away and going upstairs. Dean watched as his friend's feet disappeared into the upper floor, heart hammering in his chest.

_Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiing!_

"Christ," he muttered, forcing himself to look away from the stairs. He ripped the phone off the wall with a little more force than was necessary. "Hello?"

"Hey, honey!" His mom's voice sang. "Just calling to hear all about your first day of school!"

Dean sighed, smiling a little at Mary's enthusiasm. "Oh, it was.. it was something."


	10. Chapter 10

If anyone had told Dean a week ago that he'd be here, doing this, with _him_.. he'd probably have just punched them right in the face. Granted, memories of what he had been doing even just four days ago were lost to him, but he knew that never in his wildest imagination would he have seen a scenario for this.

After giving Mary, Sam, and Adam (who picked up other lines to join in) a technically-the-truth snippet about his first day - boring classes, met a new friend, yes, his new roommate was cool, no, he hadn't gone grocery shopping yet - Dean had headed upstairs to find Cas. Talking with the real Sam was a huge break for their situation. He wanted the angel's opinion on it, maybe see if he had any new ideas.

But he had found Cas in his library of a bedroom, face-planted on the bed, whimpering. The guy had fallen asleep and, apparently, was having another nightmare. Maybe Cas was right - this time his emotions were more intense.

All Dean had to do was touch the guy's back, and Cas had practically cooed as his whimpers vanished, back arching into the touch. The immediate reaction stirred something uncomfortable in Dean's chest. He wished that he could keep his angel from having nightmares. He knew how much they could suck, and for a being that had spent millions of years without such raw emotion in that kind of a vulnerable state.. Cas had to be suffering, and it felt like it was all Dean's fault somehow.

He lifted his hand off of Cas, and the soft noises of contentedness faded. The little cries puttered back to life, and the hunter had sighed, easing himself onto the mattress slowly so as not to wake his angel.

And that was how Dean had found himself lying on his friend's bed, staring at the ceiling with Cas snuggled up against his side. The angel's face pressed into his chest, one arm thrown across the hunter's waist while the other was tucked underneath his sleep-heavy body. Though initially Dean had kept both arms firmly crossed behind his head as a stiff pillow, they now draped over Cas, one hand gently holding the arm on his stomach, the other mindlessly trailing up and down the angel's back.

It was _not_ going to become a routine. Cas just needed some time to adjust.

Dean had been lying there for at least two hours, at first trying not to enjoy the different feel on a man's body so intimately close to his own, fighting the spiking butterflies that raved in his stomach. He had always wondering if the difference would be good or bad, especially with Cas.

And it was an awesome different.

Lying there with Cas was like having a constant, tiny heart attack. His chest hammered for nearly an hour and his limbs felt tingly as his blood raced under skin in excitement. Dean was sure he had been blushing for a solid half hour after first climbing onto the bed. He had expected Cas to wake up at any second, and the idea horrifing while intriguing him.

But now, as the clock ticked just past two and Dean's eyes finally began to flutter with fatigue as his imaginary coronary subsided, the hunter pulled Cas closer with tender ease. The angel's slumber throughout the past couple hours had given Dean confidence to simply enjoy the feeling. It just felt good to lie there with Cas, a dull thumping somewhere between his abdomen and his chest, especially when the angel's hand grasped at his tee shirt.

It wasn't fair how good this felt, how close they were and how every bad memory felt completely forgiven in that moment, in this new world. Things weren't this easy in their own universe, and Dean was sure that they damn well still wouldn't be when they returned. Cas wouldn't need to sleep and this moment would be nothing but a buried place in time that the angel would surely wish to forget. Cas deserved better than what Dean could ever offer.

"Mmmm.. De.. Dean.. ?"

Dean tilted his head to find a better view of the angel's face. His eyes were still shut, though squeezed tight as though Cas were fighting for a few more seconds of sleep.

It was cute as hell.

"Feeling alright, buddy?" Dean asked softly.

"Mmm.. I think.. I think I was dreaming.. " Those dry lips twisted into a smile. "It was.. I think.. something.. good.. "

As Cas began to wake more, the angel's body stretched and squirmed, pushing against Dean in all the right ways, ways that the hunter shouldn't have been enjoying. His arms thrusting out, one slipping beneath Dean's back while the other grazed across his stomach, legs seizing as they slipped between the hunter's in a kind of stiff dance, that obscene moan vibrating through his throat and straight to Dean's skyrocketing heart rate. Cas yawned into a slow finale, body wrapping against Dean once more with a sleepy groan. His hand grasped at the black material of the tee shirt once more.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you.. lying with me?"

Well shit, what was he supposed to say? He couldn't exactly escape _now_. But the angel hadn't seemed to mind their.. cuddling that morning when they woke up together on the couch. Maybe he'd have the same roll-with-it attitude as before. With his heart beginning to thump faster and faster, Dean prayed to whoever might be listening that Cas wouldn't.. well, he wasn't even sure what he was wanting.

"You were having another nightmare." Dean said, hoping that he sounded nothing like the anxious wreck he was quickly becoming. "You chilled out when I touched your back to wake you up, so I thought.. I thought this might help a bit more."

"Oh."

Crap. Dean began mentally berating himself for believing that this would at all be okay in any world. His face screwed up with embarrassment, and he tried to sit up, to run away and literally hide in a hole forever.

But the hand that clung to Dean's shirt suddenly tightened, and the hunter froze. Puzzled green eyes found the sleepy blue.

Words weren't exactly either of their strong points. Dean knew that. Cas knew that. Anyone who knew anything about either knew that. Dean so often fumbled his wanna-be snarky comebacks and butchered apologies and ruined compliments the second they tried to pass his lips. Cas had been known to confuse the crudely-translated Enochian for English and seemed to always make a situation worse by opening his mouth when things became heated. They were the most impossible duo for a conversation that could destroy them both.

Yet in the moment that their eyes met as Cas's fingers clung to Dean's shirt, words weren't necessary. How often had they simply stared at one another soundlessly, taking in not just the other's physicality but all the emotions and thoughts that swirled within the colors of their irises? Dean and Cas could, and would, try to claim that there was nothing unique to their friendship, but the silent communication was a skill they had long since perfected beyond what they had with others. The gentle tug on Dean's shirt wasn't just the lingering of pressure - it was a silent plea. Dean could see his angel wordlessly asking him to stay.

Keeping their eyes locked, Dean slowly lowered himself onto his back again, arms instinctively coming up to hold Cas as the angel wound back around him. That head of black-brown hair rested somewhere in the crook of Dean's underarm, and together, they exhaled breaths they hadn't realized were being held.

Dean's heart continued to hammer, though. Why was Cas letting them continue to lie like this? More importantly, why was _he_ letting them? He was supposed to be pushing away, throwing up walls, yelling for Cas to leave him alone, not rubbing little circles into the guy's damned back! He wasn't supposed to be enjoying this, and he screamed at himself to shove the angel across the room and make a run for it, that this was all some kind of messed up, sick, twisted, absolutely bogus lie that this world was developing.

The purr of satisfaction deep in his chest told him otherwise.

"Your heart is beating rather rapidly, Dean."

God, Cas knew exactly what not to say. Dean stopped rubbing into Cas's back, that desire to run feeling a bit more urgent if Cas was about to ask him why the hell he was panicking. He opted to stay silent, hoping Cas would take the hint.

A short silence.

"Thank you, Dean." Cas said, voice barely above a whisper. Had their heads not been so close together, Dean was sure he'd have missed it.

Maybe it was just something in the air here. Or maybe.. things _could_ be easy.

"No problem, Cas."

* * *

><p>When Castiel blinked open his eyes over and hour later, Dean had fallen asleep with his arms still around him. His heart skipped a beat at the feel of the warm arm draped down his back and the hand at his waist. Human instinct to sink deeper into the hunter's body moved him, drawing them even closer. Dean murmured indistinctly in his sleep.<p>

To lie there forever would have been ideal, but it was after four, and Castiel knew that they had work to do.

"Dean."

The former angel pulled back, propping himself up on an arm to lean over and look down at his friend's face. Dean always looked so at peace when he slept, cares and worries and fears washed away for the moments of slumber. It was a relaxed part of Dean that Castiel rarely saw, a part that Castiel deeply craved.

"Dean."

The hunter's face began to contort as he woke. Castiel felt him tensing his muscles in a motionless stretch beneath him, and Dean groaned.

"Hm?" He hummed, eyelids blinking open to reveal the green fields that the former angel adored.

"It's after four o'clock," Castiel murmured. "We should try calling Sam."

"Right, right."

They moved in sync, Castiel heaving himself one way while Dean reached the other, their tangled legs slipping from the embrace with relative ease as the two men lazily tried to find their feet. Dean reached high into the air with both hands for a more complete, full-body stretch, then looked over at Castiel.

He smiled, and the former angel found himself smiling back.

"Welp, let's get this show on the road." Dean clapped his hands together, heading for the door. "Who knows? Maybe we'll be going home tonight, buddy."

But Castiel wasn't sure if he wanted to just yet.

"Hello?"

"Sammy?"

"Dean? Great, so it works both ways, then."

Dean had made sure to find the speaker option on the old cell phone before calling Sam, so he and Castiel were able to sit at their table, the phone lying between them.

"How'd you do today playing Kindergarten Cop?"

"Screw you, man. I'm not going to last a week here."

"Hey, I'd take the rugrats over this boring-ass college crap. This morning? Listened to three hours worth of lecture about a piece of paper I could've just read."

"The syllabus? God, Dean, it's just the first day, things get better. What I wouldn't give - "

"Why don't we try to figure out this creature?" Castiel interrupted loudly. Dean cast him an amused look and Sam fell silent. "Tell us what you can about the world you are in, Sam, and we can use the similarities between the two to try and narrow our search. Even the smallest details could be useful."

"Well," Sam began. "I woke up in a house in Lawrence, Kansas, 2007 two days ago, married to Jess."

Though Castiel had not personally known the Winchester's prior to raising Dean from Hell, he had known about the girl Sam lost to Azazel. The mingled sadness and joy in Sam's voice was understandable.

"I teach Kindergarten and live in this little place across town from the house."

The house. The main home that had haunted Dean and Sam for their entire lives. Even Castiel knew of it.

"It's been rebuilt. Azazel still killed Mom, but Dad killed him. I never had the demon blood here."

Dean and Castiel shared a look of confusion. The world Sam was describing was not the one they were living in. Dean leaned closer to the phone.

"Does Dad still hunt over there? Do we?"

"Dad does, and we apparently still do sometimes, but we're more into our own work here, I guess. Jess is kind of Dad's Bobby. She does all the research from home and I help out." Sam paused. "But it's.. different. Dad's different. He's.. kind. He's understanding and wants to know what we're doing. I've never seen the guy smile so much. Make jokes and calls just to call. I'm pretty sure he even gave us his blessing to go to college."

Castiel watched as Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. The hunter opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

"Anything else, Sam?" Castiel asked instead, keeping an eye on Dean. "Are there any details that have popped out to you?"

"Ahh.. " There was a pause while Sam seemed to think it over. "Not.. really. I had a kid today tell me that there are alligators under his bed and asked me what they like to eat."

Dean laughed. Even Castiel felt the corners of his lips twitch.

"But I've only been here for a couple days, so maybe something will come up in the next few?"

Castiel nodded. Nothing particularly strange had come up on their end, either.

"What about you guys? How's the year 2000?"

Castiel let Dean explain. The hunter was about as concise as Sam had been, tactfully omitting the details of their.. more personal events.

As he listened, Castiel tried to figure what this monster could be. A creature that could trap and humanize celestial beings and demons undetected, alter the physical body of victims, traverse universes if not create them, time-travel, as well as connect certain worlds through something as ordinary as a phone number.

It was a list of near-impossibilities.

Sam had been right - this creature had to be some kind of monster alpha, perhaps even a hybrid of some sort, or something brand new, something they had never encountered before. With the swirl of confusing information dancing chaotically in his head, Castiel had to assume that it was the latter.

"Wow, so you and Cas are both human?" Sam's voice buzzed through the air, cutting into Castiel's thoughts.

"Yeah. One hundred percent bonafide human badasses." Dean smirked at Castiel, who rolled his eyes.

"Sounds like this is one hell of a monster we're hunting."

"It would seem so," Castiel agreed.

"Well, I need to go." Sam said with a sigh. "Jess'll wonder where I went, but I'll look into some stuff and call if I find anything."

"Yeah, and why don't you ask if she knows anything about it." Dean suggested. "Play it off as something you heard or something. Maybe she or Dad will know."

"Will do. Look, guys.. take care of yourselves til we figure this out. I think our best bet is to play along until we know what this is."

"You, too, Sammy." The hunter's voice suddenly sounded brittle.

"Bye." And the line cut out, leaving Dean and Castiel alone in the silence of their unfamiliar apartment. The former angel glanced over.

"Well," Dean clapped his hands to his knees and stood abruptly. "Let's play ball til we know what to kill. Time for some homework."

* * *

><p>The next few days were nothing but a boring, looped, seemingly endless blur. Wake up, endure lectures over topics neither cared to understand, then hitting the city library (they had decided that the campus one housed no answers) for the case, dinner with Evelyn (to whom Cas had finally decided to be friendly), and rounding off the evening at home with beer (for Dean), soda (for Cas) and homework.<p>

Most homework seemed to be reading pages upon pages in the textbooks they had found in their rooms, so it was a lot of sitting at the table or on the couch in silence, trying not to let their eyes droop shut. Cas had been lucky enough to have his second Wednesday class cancelled due to an emergency in his professor's family, so he had sat in Dean's course with the hunter and Evelyn, whispering the points he felt their professor didn't fully understand. By the time Thursday evening hit, both men were eager for a weekend free of any reading, and they fell into bed mentally spent.

Dean pulled the sky blue blankets up over them, covering only up to the waist. The Kansas heat had been pretty bad that week, and the angel beside him only made the night chill feel like the daytime warmth.

He hadn't meant for it to be a thing. Really.

Monday night was what ruined everything. Dean and Cas had gone to bed in their respective rooms after doing their assigned readings and Cas made his notecards, no big deal. But only an hour after closing his door, the hunter had been ripped from sleep by the angel's screaming. A simple touch to his back, the dying out of cries and whimpers.. and Dean had been resigned to crawl under those sky blue covers and pull Cas into him.

But now, four nights later, the resignation was less.. prominent.

Instead, he breathed in the angel's shampoo and Dr. Pepper breath, drug his fingers across the fabric of Cas's tee shirts, and secretly bathed in the awesomeness of it all until sleep overcame him each night.

It was a mark of their friendship that Cas never mentioned it.

Dean was grateful. It was one thing to cuddle with your buddy every night. It was another to have to talk about it.


	11. Chapter 11

".. 'llo?"

"Great, Sammy, you're up."

"Well _now_ I am, Dean." A muffled groan. "Dude, you have any idea what time it is?"

"6:45. Can you talk?"

Another groan, silence, some soft rustling. Dean waited, pacing across the hardwood floor of the living area. It was still dark, but the hunter had grown accustomed to such little sleep in his life that he had woken up on his own after only five hours, mostly refreshed, and wanting to speak with his little brother alone. He listened as Sam made little grunts, seeming to move to a more secluded location than the bed he probably shared with Jess.

After several long moments, Sam spoke again. "Alright, what's up? Something happen?"

"No, not exactly. Just wanted to ask you about something, see if it's going on over in your world, too."

"Okay.. "

How was he supposed to describe it? Dean wasn't the most eloquent with his ideas, but he had Sam's lifetime of dealing him him on his side. He cleared his throat quietly, not wanting to wake Cas, who slumbered on upstairs.

"Have you felt.. different? Since you've been in this new world?"

"Different?"

"Yeah. Like.. less.. angry, or bitter, or whatever? Or you take things as they come without really thinking about what's really going on? Like, when you first woke up over there - did you sneak away at the first chance to try and figure out what happened, or did you kind of just go with it?"

"Well.. I guess I kind of just went with it," Sam answered. "I mean, it wasn't like I didn't realize things were different. I just.. I felt like I'd have to go along until I knew more, you know?"

"Yeah, same over here, but not even just that. Are your memories of what was going on in our world the last few days before you came here kind of fuzzy or gone altogether?"

"Yeah.. " Sam's tone gave Dean hope - his little brother sounded as if he were surprised Dean could guess these things, like he had thought he was the only one experiencing it.

"It's the same thing on our end, man." Dean assured. "I sure as hell don't remember much, and I don't think Cas does, either. I mean, we obviously all remember I was a demon or whatever, but it doesn't feel like.. like it's as big of a deal as it should be, you know? I mean, shouldn't you and Cas have been pissed? Or thought I was dead or something?"

"You know," Sam began thoughtfully. "I thought about that, too, when you mentioned it the other day - how you and Cas were both human. I thought I'd be more shocked - furious, even. But I wasn't."

"Yeah, back home you probably would've tried to punch me in the face." Dean smirked.

Sam laughed. "Exactly! But I just kind of took the info as it was. It was like it wasn't attached to any of my emotions or memories or whatever at all. If I'm being totally honest, Dean, I feel like none of the shit we've done to each other or anything is really between us anymore. No negative feelings or anything, and same with Cas. It's like.. "

Dean waited, stepping into the kitchen to look for coffee he knew wasn't there. He and Cas really needed to go grocery shopping if they were going to be stuck here any longer.

"It's like being 22 again."

"What?" Dean shut the cabinet door.

"When I was at Stanford with Jess, just before Dad went missing. That's what I feel like. The only negative emotion I really have is how Dad treated me."

And now that Sam had said it, Dean realized he was right. At 26, he had been a full-time hunter with little to worry about outside of whatever monster was his case-of-the-week and John's bad temper. He had been carefree, more roll-with-the-punches, able to adapt better and faster than he could in more recent years, when his anger and self-depreciation had weighed down his reflexes. All the arguments, fights, and betrayals shared between himself and his two favorite people felt as though they were something out of a bad dream. The emotions that clung to his heart after each one were gone, unable to sway his thoughts in any fashion. Even if he tried, Dean was sure that he couldn't be angry with Sam or Cas as passionately as he once had been.

"Dean?"

The hunter started. "Sorry, man. You're right. You hit the nail on the head with that. I feel 26 again, not a damper on me. It's weird, and it's weird that I'm not worried about it."

"Well, we were good hunters then, too." Sam said. "We'll still be able to figure this out, especially with Cas's help."

Dean froze mid-pace as a thought struck him at the angel's name. The same question seemed to have occurred to Sam, who spoke up first.

"Wait, if me and you are kind of re-booted back to an emotional state from years ago.. how has Cas changed?"

"I don't know, because he's definitely not that dick with wings he was when we first met him." Dean said. "If anything, he seems more human than the last time. More emotional, I guess. The guys has nightmares and stuff. But aside from that, he's basically the same angel. Less stick-up-the-ass, but mostly the same."

"Hmm.. you don't think that's a bit weird? That we've changed, but Cas is still Cas?"

"Maybe it works differently with angels." Dean snapped, surprised at the defensiveness in his voice. He hastily cleared his throat. "Maybe whatever has us trapped just makes all its victims feel mostly the same way or something - chill but functional, you know?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam replied, sounding unsure. "Look, man, I should go. I think Jess is waking up. I'll try to call later."

"Oh, don't worry 'bout it - Cas and I are going out tonight."

"Uh.. what?"

Dean laughed. "This chick we met on campus is having a birthday party or something and basically made us promise to go. Either way, we need the drink, and you know how fun Cas is drunk."

"Dean," Sam sounded amused, but warning. "He's human now - be careful with him. But okay, I'll wait for you guys to call. Jess said that today she'd have time to look into our situation. I told her I was just curious if there were different species of djinns."

"Genius."

"Thanks. Talk to you later." He hung up.

Dean set the cell phone down on the counter and yawned. Maybe he hadn't been as rested as he thought. The clock on the counter read 7:32.

He had time to go back to sleep. What did he have to do today, anyway? So Dean plugged the phone into its charger and trudged up the stairs, heading back to where Cas was still asleep, waiting for him.

* * *

><p>"Dean, these jeans are distinctly uncomfortable."<p>

"They're just a bit tighter than those baggy slacks you're used to."

"The jeans I've been wearing aren't this tight."

Dean sighed as Castiel walked back into the bedroom, glaring at his legs. The jeans Dean had found in the corner of the bedroom were constricting on his waist and thighs, and the hem of the legs were at least an inch above his ankles. The rough fabric bunched at his knees, making it difficult to walk easy. The former angel cast his glare at Dean, who rolled his eyes.

"The jeans you've been wearing are at least two sizes too big for you. Where'd you even find them?"

"In the bottom drawer of the dresser."

Dean stood from the bed and walked over to the dresser in question and pulled open the bottommost drawer, where Castiel had days ago discovered the pair of jeans he had been wearing all week and a wide variety of loose-fitting shirts. The hunter scoffed and began opening the other drawers, rifling through the contents. After a moment, he turned his head to Castiel, green eyes narrowed and mouth half-open in exasperation.

"Did you even look in the other drawers?"

"Well, I found clothes around the room and in the bottom drawer - "

"Dude, it looks like you found all this guy's old fat clothes. Look in here," the hunter said, pointing at the other open drawers. "Normal fitting clothes. Jeez."

Cas came over to inspect the drawers himself, and was resigned to find that Dean was correct. Each drawer was generalized - one for pants, another for shirts, a final for undergarments, all appearing to be newer and smaller compared to the items he had been wearing all week. He pulled out a pair of dark jeans, to which Dean nodded.

"Those look like they'll fit better. Why don't you try wearing some normal fitting clothes from now on?"

Castiel rolled his eyes as he shut the pants' drawer and began to search through the shirts, slightly irritated that he hadn't discovered the more appropriate articles on his own.

It was nearly nine that night, and Evelyn had called to tell Dean that they were all meeting at bar called 'Second Chances' on the city square at ten. The day had been a lazy one, waking up around one and watching movies while continuing to doze on and off until Dean had declared it was time to try and make Castiel look more presentable just after eight.

"Dean, I do plan on showering before we leave." The former angel had said.

"Oh no, man, I'm talking about your oversized clothes. You've gotta have something else in that freaking room that doesn't make you look like the Biggest Loser."

And the hunt had begun.

With the discovery of his new clothes, Castiel had been left alone to pick and choose while Dean took a shower.

While the option was nice, Castiel found picking out clothes a bit tiresome. A new choice each day that didn't seem necessary when he had spent most of his time on among humans in the same suit. Either way, in this new world, he didn't have a choice but to dig through the shirts within his alternate self's dresser and find one that he thought would be most comfortable. While he had come to favor tee shirts, he knew from observation that humans often wore slightly more former clothes when they had gatherings in public places. So instead of the pastel green tee shirt that caught his eye, Castiel pulled out a dark purple button-up, closed the drawers, and began to dress.

Admittedly, the clothes felt better. The dark denim lacked the confining experience of the jeans Dean had found, yet weren't loose enough to require a belt in order to simply remain on his hips. Instead, the new jeans gently clung to his hips and thighs before falling loose the remaining distance to his feet, where they were the perfect length once he stepped into his shoes. A belt wasn't necessary, but Castiel was accustomed to wearing one and buckled it on.

The shirt was equally as comfortable, a breathable, synthetic silk-type fabric that seemed to almost shimmer as he moved under his ceiling light. The deep purple was a pleasing color, and he smiled a little to himself as he buttoned up his front. Castiel struggled with the small buttons at his wrists, eventually opting to simply roll up the sleeves to his elbows as he had seen Sam and Dean do countless times before.

Castiel sighed when he was done. He was comfortable, and that was what really mattered to him.

"Cas!" He heard Dean call. "You ready to go?"

"Yes, Dean."

The former angel opened his bedroom door and stepped into the hallway, flipping off the light as he went. He found Dean in the dimly lit corridor, dressed similarly in a typical plaid shirt, hair still damp from his shower. Castiel could smell his shampoo and aftershave from his position six feet away.

"Is this more what you meant, Dean?"

The hunter didn't answer right away. Castiel felt confused as the hunter's green eyes traced up and down him, more than likely inspecting his appearance. But the former angel wasn't entirely sure what had Dean surprised enough for his mouth to hang open just slightly. When those green eyes reached Castiel's, the hunter blinked and cleared his throat loudly.

"Uh, yeah, something like that," Dean said, averting his eyes and stepping around Castiel to head down the stairs. "C'mon, let's go."

* * *

><p>'Second Chances,' as it turned out, was less of a bar and more of a night club. Not exactly Dean's scene, but the drinks seemed more reasonably priced than most of the can't-hear-myself-think dance clubs. At least, he assumed so, as the outdoor marquee was advertising dollar drafts and $5 or less mixed drinks. That gave him some hope, despite the heavy bass that vibrated the concrete he and Cas stood on just outside the place.<p>

"It does seem a bit.. loud." The angel commented.

Dean snorted. "C'mon, let's do this," and he led the way inside.

It felt like opening Pandora's Box. The second Dean pulled on the front door and the seal was broken, the muffled music and gentle bumps of bass exploded in volume, seeming to press against them like a tangible wind. Dean felt Cas cringe slightly behind him against the loud nineties music, currently a Blink-182 classic that Dean always found too pop-y to be considered enjoyable. The door slammed shut behind them.

While the bulky bouncer examined their IDs (Dean had laughed himself stupid when he saw 'Castiel Novak's picture - the guy looked scrawnier than he already was and was grimacing more than smiling, like a child being forced to eat vegetables or something), Dean took a look around. The place was huge and dark, only lit by a few dim wall lights and the strange neon lights that strobed over the dance floor, a huge space in the middle of the club with sleek wood floors and about a hundred people moving chaotically across it.

Cas's voice reached him, but with the music cranked so loud, Dean couldn't decipher the words.

"What?" He called, turning to face his friend and leaning in so that their heads were close.

"I believe that's Evelyn over there!" Cas called back. He nodded off to Dean's left. The hunter turned, and sure enough, there was Evelyn standing at one of the bars, chatting animatedly with someone that had their back to him.

Not bothering with words, Dean jerked his head towards her and made his way over, Cas following close behind. Though Dean knew the angel had been in stranger situations, he couldn't help but wonder how Cas was going to do out in a night club, especially with his drinking tolerance. Dean hadn't really thought that this would be the scene when he was imagining taking the lightweight out drinking. But there wasn't much he could do about it now.

"Dean!"

High-pitched and a tad squeaky, Evelyn's voice carried over the thunderous volume of the music easily once she spotted them. She skipped over, little yellow sundress bouncing with her, and threw herself into Dean's arms in a tight hug.

"I'm so glad you two made it!" She squealed as she pulled back from Dean, who had caught her around the waist. "I know it's loud, but you'll get used to it, promise! Oh, Cas!"

And she lunged into the angel's chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. Dean stifled a laugh as Cas's arms rose to her back uncertainly, blue eyes wide with bewilderment. She tilted her head to his ear and began speaking rapidly, all too quiet for Dean to catch anything.

"Sorry, she's already had a couple drinks," came a deep, thickly-accented voice in Dean's ear.

He turned and came face to face with a tall guy about his own age with dark brown hair that thing down to his chin. His eyes were a chestnut brown, with dark circles underneath, as though he had never known a full night's rest. When he smiled, his teeth were very cooked.

"Name's Vlad," he said loudly, extending his hand. Dean took it, wondering what kind of accent it was that the guy had. "Close friend of Evelyn's. Come," he pulled the hunter towards the bar. "let's find you a beer. Evelyn will bring your friend."

Dean cast a glance back and saw Cas with an arm around Evelyn's waist as she continued to chatter. The angel looked up, caught Dean's eye, and gave him a small smile. He didn't look as alarmed as he had a moment ago, and Dean was glad. Cas was a big boy, but the hunter still felt somewhat responsible for the angel while he was human. Dean turned back to Vlad as they neared the bar.

"You guys been here long?" He called.

Vlad laughed. "Not really, just about thirty minutes. But our friend Roman seems keen to make sure Evelyn drinks her own weight and started right away. You're Dean, yes?"

Dean nodded.

"Evelyn seems to like you and your friend, Castiel, is it?"

He nodded again as they reached the bar. A pretty redheaded bartender leaned over the counter towards them, breasts threatening to burst out of her too-small shirt. Dean grinned, putting his elbows up on the bar to close the space between them.

"Whatcha want, babe?" She asked loudly. Dean suppressed a cringe at her nasally voice.

"Two of your best beers!" God, it was going to be a long night with the yelling.

The redhead winked as she disappeared, and Dean turned back around just as Cas and Evelyn reached them. She released Cas and stood in the center of them all, beaming up at them and wiggling around a bit in beat to the thundering music. Dean quirked an eyebrow at Vlad, who just laughed.

"She's going to be a handful tonight, lads!" The tall man called over the music. He reached behind Dean and returned with three bottles. Handing one to the hunter and another to Cas, Vlad lifted his own bottle high in the air, just above Evelyn's head. "So drink up and enjoy yourselves!"

Dean found Cas's eyes, and was surprised to find none of the confusion and panic typically swirling those blue orbs when the angel was trying to socialize. Instead, Cas's brow was relaxed and his eyes gentle as he grinned at Dean and raised his beer to meet Vlad's. The hunter's heart gave an uncomfortable flutter, and he hastily brought his bottle to meet the others'.

"Let's have a good one," he said softly, but the music was too loud for anyone to have heard him.

But Cas smiled at him all the same as the angel brought the bottle to his lips.


End file.
